Sugar-n-Spice

Just Because They're Beautiful

2010-05-16T13:03:00.001-07:00

No More Fluff

2010-05-12T10:02:00.000-07:00

The couch really isn't all that old. What is the life of a couch, anyway? We've only had it about 6 or 7 years. But it's been through 8 children plus all the ones I've kept in my home along the way. That's lots of spit up, pee, juice and dirt stains. And the cushions just have no fluff left. The seams are coming undone. I'm embarrassed when people come over. Really.

Wonder why the cushion is all flat on one side?

This is why. It's her favorite perch. She's so darn cute, who can tell her no?

Double Digits

2010-05-11T09:45:00.000-07:00

Hope turned 10 last week. A decade ago I gave birth to my biggest baby, weighing in at 8 lbs, 1 oz. We were living in New Mexico at the time, and my grandmother had come about a week prior to her birth to help me out. Those are precious memories I'll always cherish... I was so ready to have that baby, and my grandmother and I did everything possible to speed things along. My midwife had even suggested some pressure points, and I literally had bruises where my grandmother rubbed and pressed them. She nearly walked me to death, too. But, of course, Hope would only arrive in her own timing. My mother also made it just in time to be with me for her birth. The room was full of a few of the most precious women in my life.

Hope is such a treasure. She's emotional, sensitive, a giddy, prissy girlie girl... yet she gets dirtier and rougher than any of the others, too. Whatever she does, she does with all her being, nothing is ever half-hearted. You don't have to guess at what she's feeling or thinking, she's very outward with her emotions and thoughts. She's extremely compassionate, and just such a joy! Oh, I love this girl of mine!

She and Faith made her birthday cake very late on her birthday. They giggled and carried on. I didn't even mind the mess they left in the kitchen. And we all sang and had cake and celebrated Hope's 10th year of life. Happy Birthday, Sweetie!

Randomness

2010-04-29T08:03:00.001-07:00

- A week or so ago TJ came in from turkey hunting decked out in his camo. He had on a leaf suit like this one... hard to describe, but basically he looked like a tree. A leafy one. Fashionable Grace got this excited, starry look in her eyes and said, "Oh, Dad, where'd you get those fancy pants?"

- Blessing, who is more RADish-like than I'd like to admit (do I really have to walk this road twice, Lord?) - was banished to her room a couple of days ago for being totally between me and the other 2's math lesson. Like would not. get. her. head. out from between me and the math-u-see blocks. Of course I was rather distracted by the math lesson, and instead of going to her room, she made a detour in the kitchen... to the kitchen drawer (that was child locked, mind you)... got out a knife and nearly sliced her finger right off. At least the amount of blood would make you believe so. Afraid she'd be in trouble, she did not tell me and smeared blood from one end of the house to the other. I swear it looked like a crime scene here. Good grief.

- TJ is out of town on a fishing trip/men's retreat. I'm a single mom for a few days. I'm so spoiled... he does so much around here. He often cooks, baths kids, ENTERTAINS them, and the list goes on and on and on. I miss him for much more than the work he does, but that part is missed, too.

- All the kids have been on the new playground Hubby built non-stop. The weather is perfect outside and they have just played and played and played. It's been so nice!

- This weekend Faith has her first swim meet of the season. Go Faith!

- I had one of my finer mother moments this week as Hope was stomping around moaning and groaning and pouting like she was dying over a denied piece of candy. I quick turned on a DVR'd episode of AI Gives Back and showed her the segment with an adorable little girl in Africa, orphaned and dying from AIDS. Then I said, "look at her and then throw your little fit over not getting a piece of candy." Not my best moment. Ugh. Poor Hope. Not denying that she needed a reality check, but let's just say that was a little over kill on my part. I suppose I was throwing my own little fit about her behavior. Hmmm...I wonder where she gets it from.

- Mercy has a nice blue shoe print right smack on her forehead. Goose egg and very defined blue sole shoe print lines. Poor thing walked right in front of a swinging girl. Yep, shoe to the forehead. Did you hear her scream from your house? Between the sliced finger, and the undeniable shoe print on the face, well, I'm glad DHS isn't making visits around here anymore. Mother of the year award coming my way soon!

- Can't think of a thing more, though I know my kids have done and said no less than a thousand hilarious things this week. Hope your weekend is great!

Strangling Barbies

2010-04-27T07:12:00.001-07:00

The UPS guy delivered the swings! Thanks SO MUCH to my husband's mom, who we all call "Mimi", for the lumber and the swings. It's perfect, and the kids LOVE it!

Mercy says "Cheese" now, any time the camera is out. Well, actually she doesn't say "cheese" at all. But she slaps on this grin and hums at a high pitch. She thinks she's saying "Chesse". Does that count as talking?

They sweep, sweep, sweep, and sweep the inside of their clubhouse. Must be the dirtiest floor ever in there...

Oh, fashionable Grace.

Faith and Hope spent their evening tearing up our tree. And Strangling Barbies. I suppose that needs some explaining. It started on the trampoline, tossing hula hoops. Before long, a hoop was hung in the tree. They tossed another hoop in an effort to knock the first one down... of course that resulted in 2 stuck hoops. And so the quest to retrieve them began. Do you see the monkey in the tree? She's well hidden in the leaves, but she's pretty high.

And then there was this bright idea to tie their barbies to a rope. They would toss it and try to hang their home made anchors to the hula. It eventually worked.... and apparently the whole deal was just more fun than they could stand and so they tossed the hoops into the tree again. Silly girls.

He's at it Again

2010-04-22T08:22:00.001-07:00

Oh, yes he is.

But this time, it's a playhouse for the kids, so most of the mess is outside. And there's no hole in my wall. Happy Momma. Happy kids. Happy Daddy. It's win-win all the way around.

He's closing in the bottom (actually already has, I just don't have a picture). There are beams extending out the sides for swings (ordered, not delivered yet), and eventually there will be a slide... have you looked at buying a slide? How in the world can something that looks so simple cost so much? Ugh.

I'm so proud... and so is Hubby. It looks great, and the kids are super excited.

This picture cracked me up, though. Once again you can tell a lot about my mothering by the picture. Blessing has on a blue dress with purple pants underneath. I praised her for dressing herself. And told her how wonderful it looked. Notice Grace is back in the red slippers. Poor Mercy doesn't even have a shirt or shoes on, and is that a tootsie pop in her hand? Good grief. Not to mention my 18 month old is standing at the top of a 5 ft. high opening. And no one is paying a bit of attention. Oh, wait... yes, I am. Just not concerned. Nonchalantly taking a picture. Can you imagine if that was my first born up there? Nah... the first born would have been fully dressed, including socks and tennis shoes, hair fixed, bow in, NO CANDY, and certainly not walking around with a stick hanging out of her mouth. That's just too dangerous. And 5 ft. high? My, how more children changes a girl. ;-)

Wordless Wednesday

2010-04-21T17:43:00.003-07:00

Hogskin Hammies

2010-04-20T11:41:00.000-07:00

Remember that little town festival Hogskin Holidays? Well, I failed to mention my oldest 2 girls marched in the parade as a little group that made up the Hogskin Hammies. They were decked out in boas and necklaces and piggy ear-rings, and carried lawn chairs with them. Yes, lawn chairs. With all the flare of Stomp, they did a little routine that included banging the chairs on the ground, slapping them open and shut, and twirling them in rhythmic fashion.

Yes, very cool.

What's even cooler is that the governor (along with his entourage of security people and paparazzi - which my husband and I thought was hilarious - where did he think he was? Chicago?) took notice. He, too, was in the parade, and as it turns out tried his hand at lawn chair drums. Here's a picture of my grandmother bossing around the governor. Who would have ever thought I'd see the day? Apparently Hope is really enjoying the boss session, too. Funny girl.

And here's the whole hammie group with him. Are they cute?

Locks of Love

2010-04-19T08:13:00.000-07:00

Grace has had long, beautiful hair for years. For awhile, I think her hair distinguished her from her sisters who were so close in age, and that's one reason she loved it so much. People would constantly compliment her hair, and she would stand a little taller, and priss a little more sassy-like.

For a month or so, she's being saying she wanted to cut it. Fine by me, I assure you it's a tangled mess to wash, brush, and fix. She would often cry when I was brushing it out, yet still insist she didn't want to cut it (though I tried to talk her into it). This time, though, it was her own idea, and she stuck with it. I didn't push one way or the other, but I did show her this site, and what she could do with that beautiful hair of hers.

And so she did... Saturday Aunt Lissa (against her will) snipped off a 13 inch ponytail for Locks of Love. And you just thought the walk was sassy beforehand. My word that child strutted around, flipping her head back and forth, hands on hips with a real swagger in her step. Cutie-patootie!

Hogskin Holidays

2010-04-14T12:49:00.000-07:00

To celebrate Charity's birthday, we spent a day at Hogskin Holidays. The girls had arm bands for the fair and spent most of the day riding rides. Unfortunately, I have a little one with sticky fingers (Mercy), and the photo card from the day is GONE. Ugh. I'm totally sad about that (and my mom is gasping... it was hers... don't worry too much, mom, I had already looked at it and the only pictures on it were the ones from that day). Anyway, I did load just a few of the pictures for a sneak peek, just not very many. I really hate not having pictures of Charity blowing out her motif candle (oops) on her birthday cake.

But at least I can share a few pictures with you. Believe it or not, Grace, the biggest fraidy cat of the bunch (typically) got on the ferris wheel. Her first ride was with Faith and Charity. Can you tell which one Grace is? Lol.

Don't worry, she got over it and actually rode the ferris wheel several more times.

Hope, who is fairly fearless when it comes to rides, unfortunately is also extremely prone to motion sickness. Rides opened at 10 a.m. At 10:05, one ride later (a doozy of a ride, mind you... she picked the spinniest -yes, I make up words- one there... the Scat II) she was green tinted and about to lose her breakfast. Her nana bought her a coke, and she stood sipping while everyone else rode other rides.

Mercy spent most of the day attached to Aunt Lissa, and Melissa climbed up and down that silly slide more times than I can count. Huge grins from Mercy, then grunts to get right back on. Mercy grunts, Melissa obliges (or mom, or sisters, or whoever is close). ;-)

It's a terrible picture, but at least it's proof we had funnel cakes! What's a fair experience without the food... the kids all had foot long corn dogs and funnel cakes!

Charity loved riding and did a great job handling a day of indulgence and fun. We all enjoyed the day, even enjoyed her, being with her, and watching her have a great time without becoming obnoxious or ridiculously hyperactive. Blessing who is typically fearless, is actually very afraid of rides. She stuck by my side most of the morning, but eventually mustered up the courage and rode lots of rides, including big ones. My big 2 girls have loved rides since they were small, so everyone had a great time!

Dear Charity,

2010-04-13T12:40:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday!

Oh, sweet baby. You've lived with us for 2 years now, and you turned 6 today. Wow. In some ways it seems like you've always been a part of our family... I can't remember life without you. In other ways it still seems like yesterday you stamped your little foot at me, threw your lunch plate in the floor, and with your cute little nose turned up told me my lunch was completely unacceptable. And that I should now fix you a grilled cheese sandwich.

I laughed. It was funny then, and it's still funny now. However, had I known your little bossy demand was RAD on that very day, and what RAD would mean for all of us, I might have tucked tail and ran. Maybe that's why God had things happen the way they did. I don't think I would have tested the waters... I would have been too afraid if I had read so many discouraging things about RAD before you came. If I knew you were living with it. Because sometimes I still try to make it about me. Like I'm the one living with RAD. Like I'm the victim. I have no idea what being a victim is, do I, sweetie? You do. And I still see it in your eyes sometimes.

I'm so glad I didn' t know. Because I would have missed life with you. I wouldn't trade you, what you've taught me, or how you've blessed me for anything in the whole wide world! I'm in for the ride, baby! And I suppose if I feel like I'm on a roller coaster, then what you feel is ten times that.

RAD is diminishing and Charity is emerging. And what a beautiful, smart, COMPASSIONATE (wow, only you and I can fully appreciate that), hard little worker you are. I'm so proud of what you are accomplishing. It's hard work for your Dad and I, but it's even harder work for you, and I can't believe you're still putting up with us and our silly selves. Some days we just can't get it right, huh? But we're trying. Just like you. I see you trying... you're trying so hard, and that's so great to see! There was awhile there I didn't think you were going to try. Or that you were going to give us a chance. And who could blame you, really?

Oh, you still like to play some games. Your Dad laughed his head off the other day as you held up a crayon, the coloring book laid out in front of you, and looked at it all completely perplexed and said, "What do I do with this?" It was so obvious. You've only colored pretty much every day since you've been with us. But, I'll let that slide... after all, that day was full of indulgence and love and fun and praise to celebrate your birthday. It was sure to be met with some back sliding. But you know what? It didn't end with a fit. In fact, you laughed. You shrugged your shoulders without becoming all pitiful or whining or melting into a pot of rage and frustration. Look how far you've come! You did later exclaim, "Look at those goats!!!!" as the horses in the parade went by. But it was a fleeting moment and you went on to enjoy the parade. And cake at Nana's house. With no over-the-top-ness or maniacal laughing or ANYTHING! Wow! You're doing SO well!

Birthdays are hard for me. And I wonder if they'll be hard for you, too, as you grow and wonder what your first years were like. And what your first moms were like. As I hug and kiss little Mercy's face I realize how much I missed with you. How many kisses, how many hugs, how many hours of staring into each other's faces? How many tickles, lullabies, and feeding each other cookies? Were you chubby? Were you an early walker? Were you a nosy body like your sister Hope, or a whiny baby like your sister Grace? Were your little personality traits cherished and laughed about by your caregivers? I want all that with you. And if it isn't bad enough that I didn't get to have those moments with you...it seems no one did. It's not as if you were being cuddled and loved by anyone for all those years. Not consistently. Not by the same mom. Maybe not at all. Definitely not at all for some length of time. I know that much to be true. 3 different homes in 6 weeks? and at least 7 in your first 3 years?

But one thing I'm sure of is you're mine now! And I'm so happy about that. And so is your dad, your sisters, and your grandparents. You are an amazing little girl, and we might clash heads often, but it's just because your little will is so incredibly strong. And you know what? I think that's a wonderful thing. You have so much to offer this world! People just naturally gravitate to you. You're already an amazing leader, you pay such close attention to detail.. and you're good at EVERYTHING you try!

I might not be the best mom in the world. You might have even had one fat motif candle stuck in the middle of your cake instead of 6 little birthday candles. Oops. But no mom can love you more than I do.

Love Always,

Your mom. Not your foster mom. Not your birth mom. Not the best mom. But YOUR mom.

And I'm so happy it gets to be me.

Buddies

2010-04-01T05:54:00.001-07:00

It's a terrible picture, poor Sadie looks like pure evil... but at least you can see that these two are buddies. More and more they play together, curl up together, eat together, etc. Silly pets!

Family

2010-03-31T13:00:00.000-07:00

My grandmother, and my youngest sister aren't the only cool ones in the family. Aunt Lissa (my sister who made her grand entrance into the world ON my birthday... no, it gets better... on my very 1st birthday!) is oh-so-special. She paints toe nails and fixes hair just right (and cuts hair, too, I might add... imagine if I had to pay for all these hair do's!), she steals girls away one or two or three at a time and makes them feel extra special. She also is one of the very few (thinking very hard, quite possibly the only) one with whom I leave all 6 girls at once. That's another post for another day, but for some reason I seem to think I'm the only one that can handle all 6. Laughing at myself now. I can be so retarded sometimes.

So anyway, back to that terrific Aunt Lissa... I think I figured out her secret. She gives them treats. Like a whole spoon full of marshmallow cream! Whose love wouldn't that buy?

I tell people all the time there is no way I would have considered any more after about number 4 if it wasn't for Melissa. Add my mother (happy birthday, mom!) and my dad... who are my encouragers, support system, and prayer warriors, and well I just can't be any more blessed.

Have Mercy

2010-03-30T07:19:00.000-07:00

Isn't she the cutest?

My youngest sister and her beau came over to visit the other day. Aunt Candice is adored by all the girls... and me, too. She's 10 years younger than I, and I had a very special place in my heart for her from the day she was born. While she was here Mercy decided (a short time ago NO ONE but Momma would do - and it bothered my dear family who was trying to love on her) that Aunt Candice was pretty cool after all. She clung tight the whole time she was here.

After playing outside for awhile we popped some popcorn and put in The Princess and the Frog. Mercy is getting so big... wanting her own bowl just like everyone else, then laid back in Candice's lap and didn't move the whole movie. Of course, I think Candice was slipping Mercy some sips of her coke. That may have helped matters a bit.

Nothing like an 18 month old strung out on coke. ;-)

The Coolest Grandmother Ever

2010-03-25T11:26:00.000-07:00

Actually, she's the coolest GREAT grandmother ever!

Who would have ever thought my daughter would be on a bright red one of these with her great grandmother?

Heavy Hearted

2010-03-22T12:43:00.000-07:00

It's been one of those weekends. I'm not so blown down that I can't look around and see the joy, the blessings, and the comfort of my Savior, but knocked down enough that His plan seems not-so-great. I know how ridiculous that sounds.. like my plan could somehow be better than the God who breathed out of His nostrils stars that make the Sun look like an m&m. But a time where my head knowledge knows that when I see His face in the glorious light of heaven, I will no longer want to ask why, yet my heart lagging far behind... hanging on to anger and fear and frustration...yearning for answers, and fairness.

We lost our adoption specialist this weekend.

When my husband was a band director, she was one of his band parents. Upon learning that we were about to complete our foster license, she stopped him at a softball game and said, "I need to place a little girl in a forever home... she looks just like your family, I can see her little blonde head tagging along behind the rest of your girls." After that, the ball began rolling fast and Blessing soon came to our home. What a gift God gave, but used her hands to do it.

We've spent hours laughing, crying, and experiencing the ups and downs of fostering and adopting children together. She was not only an adoption specialist, but a foster parent herself, currently fostering 2 small children whose lives just got turned upside down. Again. As if their little lives didn't already hold enough trauma. Please pray for them. At the tender young age of 6 and 4, they have already lost more than most of us lose in a lifetime.

She was our adoption specialist, responsible in many ways for the adoption of my children. She was a friend. She was a mom. And she'll be missed.

Daunting Task

2010-03-17T07:38:00.000-07:00

I love this time of year. I really do. We hear frogs singing at night, and birds singing in the mornings. The kids stay outside almost all day, running in and out only for drinks, snacks, and to bring me treasures... usually in the form of flowers (weeds) or rocks. They bring in a mess of dirt and leaves with them, but I suppose that's what brooms are made for.

Because we store non-seasonal clothes in bins out in the garage, when a season change comes this daunting task of sorting, trying-on, washing, and packing away comes with it. My living room looks like a few dressers and a garage sale threw up in there. Not only are clothes everywhere, but because I'm not doing my normal pick-up-behind-kids-every-hour routine, so the whole house is a mess. Ugh.

The kids love it, though. It's like shopping. They're trying on clothes and oooing and aaaahhhhing and saying, "cccuuuutttteee". Not only that, but since I'm so preoccupied with sorting, washing, making lists of needs, etc., the T.V. has been on for 2 days straight. I'm not bothering them about school work. It's win-win for them! ;)

Hopefully I'll finish up all the clothes today, and it will be on to the shoe buckets tomorrow. Joy, joy.

Daddy's Toss

2010-03-16T07:46:00.000-07:00

... is very high.

And is rewarded with grand giggles and squeals and laughter.

A good girl Daddy can toss very high.. but he can brush hair, too. I've even known him to put pig tails in. Aw, Good Daddy.

She's a Hunter, Too

2010-03-13T13:39:00.000-08:00

One of Faith's most favorite things is spending time with her Papa. She thinks he hung the moon. She treasures their time together, and rambles on and on to me later about all that he's said and done. I swear if he said oranges were really purple she'd believe him and argue with the rest of the world. So sweet.

A lot of their time together is spent shooting guns, roaming the woods, and hunting. He has taken her on the youth hunt for a few years now. She got her first deer last year, and her first buck this year. I know lots of women and girls in this part of the country are hunters (including my sister and my mother-in-law), but it still just strikes me as funny when I see my little girl all decked out in camo and boots, toting a gun and sporting hunter's orange.

So It Isn't November

2010-03-12T13:03:00.000-08:00

But I wasn't blogging then, so we can pretend. Faith turned 12 last November. Wow. She'll be a teenager this very year. And this is where I do that gulpy thing cause of a big fat lump in my throat. Has it really been 12 years ago that a doctor handed me a beautiful, 6 lb little girl? A baby girl, whom I might add, seemed to know from that very moment who she was, exactly how she wanted her life, and has rarely swayed.

I could go on for hours about her personality... but of course you just have to know her. She's the best kid ever. Well, one of the 6 bestest kids ever. And as is typical of birthdays around here, the birthday girl pretty much chooses (within reason, of course) the activities for the day. This is the 3rd year in a row that all she wanted to do was ride horses. She LOVES horses with a passion that runs deep. She still says when she grows up she'll wants to do hippotherapy (therapeutic riding) - working with horses and kids with disabilities and/or emotional struggles. She'll be fantastic at that... or whatever she decides to do.

So, we saddled up. Here's Faith about to put a blanket on Blue.

She isn't the only one who loves horses. Here's Hope with Sugar.

Big sisters riding little sisters.

Blessing's turn lasted long enough for me to turn around and get the camera. By then she was already reaching for me to get her back off. She's fearless in so many ways, but she did not like the horses, and she does not like elevators or 4-wheelers or public bathrooms. Strange mix, huh?

Sweet birthday memories.

Hugs for Dad

2010-03-11T16:46:00.001-08:00

There isn't anything better than little arms squeezing tight around your neck... especially when it's accompanied with giggles that tickle your ear, and a little one's grunts like she is squeezing with all her might. But do you know what my favorite part about that picture is? It's my husband's eyes. You can barely see any of his face. But it's enough. Enough to know the joy her sweet hug is bringing him. Enough to know his heart is swelling like mine. Enough to know his smile says it all. Look at those lines in his eyes... his grin must be a mile wide! Oh, the joy our children bring us.

That Face

2010-03-10T07:33:00.000-08:00

This picture of Charity really cracks me up. I thought about just doing a Wordless Wednesday, but I think the reason I find the picture so funny takes some explanation of her personality.

It captures so perfectly her determination. She tries so hard. Too hard, really. She thinks she needs to be perfect. She pays attention to every detail... toes pointed, hands touching toes, jump real high, just the way my big sisters do it... Oh, sweet baby, we love you no matter what! We don't want you to be just like them.

Unfortunately, for a long time her determination was directed towards less than desirable behaviors. She was determined alright... determined to keep us at arm length, to control the house hold, and to cause chaos. She was pretty successful at it, too. She was in survival mode, and I'm glad I understand that now. Because at the time it was extremely hard to swallow.

Oh, the mountains she's beginning to move. RAD is diminishing, and Charity is emerging. I read a great comment a special needs mom made about her daughter. About how her daughter had epilepsy, but epilepsy didn't have her. She talked about how her disorder didn't define her. Unfortunately for RADlings, or at least for me in Charity's case, it did define her for a very long time. It's all I could see. But that isn't true anymore. She's moving that mountain, one rock at a time. We (her family) are trying to help her move rocks, too, but most of the work is hers alone. AND SHE'S DOING IT!!!!! Praise God for His mighty works in her little heart!

She's a hard worker and a perfectionist. To a fault, really, and we're actually working on messing up. And it being ok to mess up. Like, practicing getting things wrong and then reacting nonchalantly. I say, "I want you to tell me the sound this letter makes, but tell me the wrong sound." Then when she "messes up", we laugh and snap our fingers and say, "dad-gum-it, I messed up - now I'm gonna try again." So that maybe when she really messes something up she thinks she should have gotten right, it won't cause a downward spiral of fits and rage.

But my point is that her determination isn't aimed at gaining control or the attention (at any cost) of everyone around her. She's now applying that same strong will and determination to getting along with her sisters. To doing her chores well. To accept what we've said and just say, "yes, ma'am". So when the moments of being stuck or regression come, they are oh-so-much-easier to accept... to respond to her the way she really needs instead of my own anger and frustration oozing out.

Funny how a strong character trait is both a weakness and a strength. The very thing about her that makes me want to pull my hair out is also the very thing I love deeply.

Flying High

2010-03-08T07:17:00.000-08:00

Yesterday my family joined us for church, and then spent the afternoon at the house for lunch, cards, to share kisses with giggling, wiggling girls, to dance and sing, and so on and so on. Love those kinds of days! My mom took her camera out and captured some great pictures of the girls on the trampoline.

Charity trying to do the split jump like her big sisters. She's a good study... she watches carefully and imitates well. She's so good at everything she tries.

Blessing was not to be out done... she's trying her best, too... see her little hand trying to grab the foot?

Now, I was inside playing cards... but my guess is cautious Grace wouldn't even try. Jumping high is stretching her fraidy-cat personality enough.

Enjoy!

2010-03-05T07:09:00.000-08:00

Faith is reading Roald Dahl... She's decided she loves him. Right now she's deep in The BFG. I keep hearing all these strange vocabulary words. And what's even more funny is that the little kid's use them like they are real words.

Faith had asked me for some ingredients, which I only half heard, but apparently her Dad and the kids stopped at the local grocery store on their way home from school. Not only did I get a glass (a wine glass... so cute!) specially served to me, but then after she was already in bed I saw that bottle on the counter. She went to great lengths to keep the recipe a secret.

I love it when Blessing asks for Frobscottle, please! What's next? Snozzcumbers?

Hoarders

2010-03-04T06:07:00.000-08:00

I have 2. Hope and Grace. They don't only look just alike. They act a lot alike, too. They're both really sensitive... and extremely sentimental about things. Like every single twig of grass they see they want to keep. Grace asked me if she could keep the little mesh bag the oranges came in the other day. She asked me if she could keep the knot off a popped balloon. "It's special!" she says, all whiny and pleading - like it's a family heir loom or something. Puh-lease.

I swear these two will be on a show one day... a reality one with interventions for hoarders... where clutter and junk has taken over their whole lives. TLC's new Hoarders, Buried Alive or something.

For Hope, I gave her several of these little bins.

One for rocks, pine cones, sea shells and the like. One for Valentines cards and birthday cards and letters and any paper she feels holds some significance (which includes an old tic-tac-toe post it..."But it's the first time we played tic-tac-toe, momma!"). There's another basket for stuffed animals. The rule is the same rule we have for all the children's toy buckets (big blue laundry hampers)... It's up to you what you want to keep, but it has to all fit in there, level with the top (not heaped over), no stuffing. Think I'm mean, don't you? I have 6 kids, people. In a house that wasn't exactly made for 6 kids. The madness has to stop somewhere!

Ever so often Hope has to be reminded of the rule, and to clean out her bins. Cause they end up looking like this:

It prompts all kinds of tears and pleading and, "but so-&-so gave this one to me!" and so on and so on. It's like I'm literally peeling the actual skin off her body. It's that painful. Don't feel sorry for her... Really, the monkey with no eyes or tail and knotted fur kicked the bucket long ago. If it's REALLY special, I'll put it away in the cedar chest.

And now Grace is falling in Hope's footsteps. I find little piles all over the place of her "treasures". Like this one:

And when I said, "Take those back outside, darling, they don't belong in the kitchen." It was met with immediate tears and dramatic pleas, and, "But, Mom, just look at this one, it's so beautiful, I can't put it back outside!" while she shook it only one inch from my eyes (like I could really focus on it that close). She desperately wanted me to see that goofy rock was obviously worth keeping. Umm.. it wasn't smooth or granite or sparkly or any special shape. Really, just a plain old dirty rock.

And then there was this pile of papers on her bed:

I mean seriously... that's a craft wreath no one ever finished for a Christmas project, a sheet of Faith's science notes, and one of Hubby's pay stubs with a scribbled appointment date and address on the back. The meanie I am says, "Grace throw those away." And she retorts, "but that's Daddy's handwriting!". Like I'm the wicked witch of the west because I would even dare throw away something He had written on.

As hard as it is to either of them to part with any of their treasures, they are incredibly sweet and thoughtful when it comes to doing things for and especially giving things to other people. Like these darn weeds, er... ahem... I mean beautiful flowers. I was being funny. I really do think they are beautiful. For now. But Lord help us when they wilt and I throw them away.....

Fashion Statements

2010-03-03T06:54:00.000-08:00

Grace and Charity both love to play dress up. Charity unfortunately got left out of pictures this morning, cause she's busy doing extra work to make restitution for her behavior last night. She suddenly got very stuck. VERY stuck. It was actually kind of good. I mean, not at all. I was angry. Thank goodness Hubby was here to have a level head and lovingly dole out creative responses. She couldn't find her voice (you know, long pauses before answering, mumbling, speaking very soft or whiny or both). So he had her crawl and look for it. She was not happy. Every minute or so he'd ask her if she'd found it yet. It took her a good while before she said "Yes, I found it" it a nice, normal voice. "Oh, good!" He said. "I'm so happy to hear you sweet voice I love so much is back!". She forgot where her plate goes after dinner (even though she's cleared her place and put her dished into the sink every day for 2 years now). She just stood there saying, "but I don't know where it goes!". Ahem. Then she said her sister hurt her. One of her big sisters who wasn't even in the room. Yes, she was really at it yesterday. And I'm so glad Hubby was there to handle most of it.

Cause I was done. I really didn't even want to think about appropriate responses anymore. I was exhausted and frustrated.

But what was good was that when she was tucked into bed (early because she never did get it together enough to cooperate), Tj and I were talking about how long it's been since she was that stuck. I remember a time when all day every day was a complete battle of the wills. Especially before I learned a lot of therapeutic parenting techniques. We were clashing CONSTANTLY. As frustrating as it was for her to stick her heels in deep yesterday it really was a "aha" moment... realizing how far she's come. She really melted for most of the evening, but the earlier part of the day had been fine, and it's been weeks since an episode like that.

So didn't mean to go on a RAD tangent, but it seemed kind of unfair that Charity wasn't in the picture.. cause she loves dress up every bit as much as Grace. They are both little fashion divas... though with very different spins. Grace's style is wild and nothing matches. The louder and more crazier the colors and fabrics are, the better. Charity is all about things that actually look good together. She'd rather dress up in real clothes, dresses and pantie hose and have her sisters do her hair all fancy than to wear those old dance costumes and hats that Grace loves. Grace will look absolutely ridiculous in swim goggles, cowboy boots, and a leotard. She will go to town like that and strut with glee while everyone looks her way and laughs (and wonders what kind of mother she has). Charity wouldn't be caught dead in something so ridiculous. She, too, likes to strut, but in class, not goofiness. ;)

Boy I'm taking the long way around on today's post.. the point was those glasses on Grace's face. They've been there every day for over a week now. She loves those things. Her obsessions with Dorothy and the Wizard of Oz and those little red shoes have faded, and a new one for Scooby Doo has erupted. I didn't realize the connection till she was on her hands and knees, all squinty eyes, patting the ground around her saying, "Oh no! My glasses! My glasses! I can't find them!" and, "Jinkies! there they are!". Silly girl. She makes me smile.

Oh, and Blessing? Notice she's in regular clothes. She HATES dress up. She can tolerate a leotard if there is nothing itchy or lacy or the seams aren't too tight. And the tag has been cut out. For a few minutes. Then she sheds it. She does like toboggans, though! ;) And she loves to carry purses... to fill, dump, and refill the bags over and over. That girl!

Not Me Monday

2010-03-01T07:54:00.001-08:00

I did not demand my children eat peanut butter and honey sandwiches, fruit, and yogurt... while I had doritos and a coke. Nuh-uh... not me!

Grace did not tell me that she wants to live with her friend Libby. Multiple times. I did not over analyze. Nor did I take it personally. Not me!

I did not back our big huge van into our little jeep that can't be seen through the back windows - even if it was parked horizontally back there. Definitely not me.

My children did not then contort their little faces into huge eyes or cover their mouths or say, "ooooooooo, momma had a crash"... in those voices reminiscent of elementary school mocking when that kid was about to get in big trouble. Not my kids.

I absolutely did not then blame my husband for parking back there in the first place.

And I totally did not give Faith a great lecture the same day about taking responsibility for her own actions. Because that would be stellar parenting and totally practicing what I preach. Sheesh. Not Me!

Darn Dog

2010-02-26T07:00:00.001-08:00

Meet Happy. She's the newest member of our family, and we love her.

A little while back, when it snowed outside, I took the camera out to take pictures of the kids. Seemed like every picture I snapped, there Happy was, attached to Grace's sleeve.

I swear she had those teeth sunk into Grace's sleeve for 30 minutes.

Grace finally looked at me and said, "Darn dog". I've gotta do better about my language. So doesn't sound good hearing it back out of my child's mouth. At least she didn't say "CCCRRRRAAAAAAPPPPP". Which my mouth seems to be fond of lately. Think less of me? Shoulda heard what I said when I walked into the open cabinet door. You know, the one right at forehead level, that I had left open to put dishes away out of the dishwasher. Smart, huh?

What It Really Looks Like

2010-02-24T07:37:00.000-08:00

Remember that cute table?

Not so much. I mean, it can be. But it never is. It's this constant hangout place for homework, school books and projects, colors, plates and snacks. Look close... there's a glue gun, an old applesauce cup, empty cereal box, sunflower seeds, magnetix, and tiny pet shop toys.

Then again, at any given time there are children being nourished at that table. Children patiently (or not) learning to work diligently, take pride in their work, and accomplishing great feats (learning to spell is great, right?). Children laughing over their snack or playing peek-a-boo with their little sister. Life is good. Clutter drives me crazy. But life is good.

Must Post Something

2010-02-22T07:02:00.000-08:00

Except I have no idea what. Oh... Oh, when you can't think of anything, it comes in bullet points, right? Last week I:

- saw the doctor. One of those dreaded appointments when a girl needs one of Annie's hoodie/sarong packs. I also took a scolding like I was 3 - for minimizing and waiting to come in. Trying not to share just way too much information in an inappropriate place, but the scolding might have been slightly less humiliating had we been talking face to face. Ahem. And the real joy is I get to do it all again (I was referred) this week. Lucky, lucky me.

- saw the doctor again. This time my 4 year old had/has torticollis. I had actually been waiting on an excuse to take her in to talk about some developmental issues, anyway. My concerns for her are growing... and so Blessing, too, left with a referral. 2 of them actually. One to PT for her torticollis and one to a children's testing type facility. Our clinic really should just put up a statue out front for our contributions. I love my doctor, but I've seen a little much of her lately. ;)

- My husband played the guitar and I sang at a wild game supper Saturday night. Only we crashed and burned. Really. We could not find each other for the life of us. Only 300 people there. Sheesh. Other than that it was a great night with lots of interesting food (ever had coon?), great fellowship and fun.

- Because of all the winter weather we've had, we've missed "fairapy" for over a month. Charity is hanging in there. She has her moments, but she's actually tolerated it pretty well. It's probably me that needs it more than she does. It forces me to concentrate on Charity only and enjoy her for the shining personality she is... instead of constantly barking the corrections.

How Sweet It Is

2010-02-17T07:09:00.001-08:00

... to hold a new born baby (I've been humming that song since I got my hands on this little one). It really is one of my favorite things... to rock a baby, to hear their little coos. I behaved myself. I didn't ask to undress her. I didn't see her tiny feet.

It's even sweeter when the tie that binds you is a special one. This sweet baby's family loved me when I was unlovable - when I was doing a pretty sufficient job of pushing away everyone in my family hard and furious (yes, I was one of those teens). They played a very special role in my life and I love them dearly.

My two older girls tagged along... they took after their momma when it comes to loving babies. Faith, especially, immediately started in on wanting another one for our own family. Really? You have 5 sisters and you want more? To which she replies quickly that it REALLY needs to be a boy. Bi-racial. Like we can go to McDonald's and place an order.

I love that they know just how to hold a baby. I love that their siblings have given them a glimpse into what life is like for others... they've literally seen children ripped from their parents (that was an accident, how that all happened was extremely unprofessional) but it has really shaped how they see our life, and how they care for little ones.

RADical Art

2010-02-16T07:23:00.000-08:00

I haven't blogged much about RAD lately, and that alone is probably telling about the stage we are in now. It isn't all consuming anymore. She's healing. She's attaching. She's making big strides.

Now that doesn't mean RAD isn't alive and well. It doesn't mean gross manipulation or other yucky behaviors don't show their ugly heads on a daily basis. But what is present now that was so absent before is empathy. And dare I say a conscience. She's thoughtful. She's accepting and giving genuine affection and words of praise. And now I need to get up and jump up and down for joy because you have no idea what a big deal that is.

Mostly what we deal with now is obnoxiousness. Times a hundred. Way over the top giggling and silliness. Very loud. Very anxious... all of those probably stem from anxiety and low self value. Oh, if she could just see herself the way I see her. Better yet, the way Jesus sees her. She's so beautiful. And so talented. She has a lot to offer this world. Look at this picture:

Ok, so I know it's stellar parenting to compare children. But I'm just being honest. My born of the body babies have zero art skill. They take after me. They love to see it, love to do it, but the actual work falls a little short. My stick people look disproportionate. That tale you hear about people that can't draw a straight line - That'd be me. So it may not take a whole lot to impress me. Even so, I'm thinking all the bright colors and the drawing is just really good for 5. Somebody tell me what a great artist she is. ;)

Then there are the self portraits. These make me sad. It still amazes me how her little face can smile like she is in these photos. How she can laugh all day and seemingly have a good time, and yet when she draws herself, or draws pictures of the day, she's always sad in the pictures. I have seen a few pictures that she actually drew a smile on her face, but there would still be something different about her. She's tinier than everyone else. Or she's towering over everyone else. All the little girls can have the same color clothes, but hers will be different. She even explained to me one day that her clothes were different and that's why she was sad. She also almost always has a tac, a nail, or a needle (her descriptions) poking out of her arms or legs. Oh, she breaks my heart!

So that's where we are... working hard to build her little spirit (you can't imagine how hard that is in a child who also needs constant correction). I guess what it sort of boils down to is we are working on our parenting. Because when I want to scream at her she really needs to be pulled close. Cause when I want to take her behavior personally it really has nothing at all to do with me. Cause when I want her to shut up with the stupid questions already, she really needs me to talk to her. And not say shut-up. So I go in the bathroom, and bang my head on the wall a few times. And come out with a smile and say, "Yes, dear, that's the kitchen. And since you don't know how to get there, we can practice together." Ah, life with RAD.

Snow

2010-02-12T08:00:00.000-08:00

Yesterday evening the flakes began to fall. My kids were super excited. They didn't wait for it to accumulate, as soon as it was snowing they headed out. It rarely snows here in our little corner of the world, and the little girls have been praying nightly for snow.

Charity wasn't having the best of days (far from the worst, though) and needed to finish up a chore before going out. I think it hurt me way worse than her to make her stay in. She got with the program though, and made it outside not too long after the rest of us. I'm thinking maybe something fairly traumatic happened around a wintry storm. I'm remembering the last time it snowed (2 years ago) she was a pill. Sabotaged the fun. Couldn't sled or enjoy anything. Come to think of it, I know that her move to me happened when her foster mom fell on ice and broke her hip. Charity was with her and saw her loaded into the ambulance, writhing in pain. She later told me that G.S. (her name for foster mom) fell on purpose so that she wouldn't have to care for her anymore. Maybe there's a connection to yesterday's yucky behaviors?

Faith got snow in her pants. Hilarious.

Mercy desperately wanted outside, too, so despite already having the sniffles, I took her outside. She loved it. But she didn't see much.

The kids all went out for round 2 this morning. With Dad. And the big 2 were mmmaaaaaadddddd about going to school. We let them play first, and be tardy. I hate school. I really do. I'm still a homeschooler at heart. This stinks. I wanted to keep them home today. Ugh.

Our home this morning:

Sick-er-Scared

2010-02-11T06:59:00.000-08:00

In our room sits a couch.. well, not really. Really it's an extra large chair. You know, sort of a loveseat, but only one huge cushion - comes with an ottoman kind of couch. When we moved, we no longer had room for it in our living room, and so it made its home in our bedroom. I didn't realize what a great decision that would be. It just sort of happened by default, but it has proven to be of great use there.

You see, we used to sleep a little something like this:

Our bed was (still is to some degree) like a revolving door. Any given night 1 or 2 or 6 children would find their way to our bed sometime during the night. We've pretty much always been very laid back about that, even enjoying the nighttime snuggling, and have even purposefully slept with our babies. Also slept purposefully with our adopted children to promote attachment (or in Mercy's case just because it was easier to care for her at night).

But with our number of children, and since there is no bed big enough for 8, things had to change. I'm getting older. I require more sleep. Once we moved we started telling children that they were more than welcome in our room, bring a pillow and blanket with them and get on the couch. PERFECT! We're still approachable, in sight for scared little ones, ear shot for sick ones, but getting sleep without kidney punches or kicks to the head or stealing of covers.

Grace had strep a week or so ago, and as I tucked her in she asked if she could sleep on the "sick-er-scared couch". Didn't realize it had a name, but yes, dear, it's always available for that very reason.

Not Quite the After

2010-02-10T08:19:00.001-08:00

So we aren't completely done, but we're getting close. At least there isn't a whole in the wall. And we can all fit around the table. Yay!

My husband built, we stained, I painted, and he distressed the wood. Kind of. He drew the line at sanding. I wanted him to do a little burning/beating, too. Really distress it. He wanted to be able to paint back over it if it didn't look right, and so here's the compromise.

Any ideas on window treatments and cushions? I'm so NOT the decorating type. I mean, I know when I like something, and I want it to look nice. But I'm a country girl at heart, and am just not the creative type when it comes to that sort of thing. So... what kind of material for the cushions? Patterned or solid? or none at all? And I really need those blinds, the sun really comes blazing in during the afternoons, and I'm guessing curtains might look rather silly over the blinds? Take the blinds down anyway? Hmm, Hmmm, Hmmm.... ;)

Oh, and I'm cruising the flea markets for 4 old country chairs for the rest of the seating around the table.

A close up of the colors:

Not Me Monday

2010-02-08T07:46:00.000-08:00

I did not have so many laundry baskets in one room - half with clean, unfolded clothes, and half with dirty ones - that after being shuffled around and dug through by kids (and hubby) I couldn't tell which were which. I totally did not have to just wash them all again. Not me!

I absolutely didn't cuss about that, either.

I did not grab everyone's sunday morning clothes and throw them into the dryer to knock off the wrinkles instead of using the iron. You know, the one that hasn't been plugged up since we moved here. I'm way too conservative with energy and money to do a thing like that!

I did not put 3 of my girls' hair up in knotted buns instead of having to actually brush their hair all the way out. Who would do a thing like that?

I did not cry over 6th grade math.

Speaking of crying, I would never EVER cry over a breast cancer commercial. Especially not every. single. time. the thing comes on. NOT ME!

My Mother

2010-02-05T07:17:00.000-08:00

My mother is turning red right this very minute. Don't worry, Mom, I only have about 10 readers... on a good day. This is mostly for you and me. And because I think you're hilarious.

Yesterday was one of those days. It wasn't terrible, mind you, and I wasn't in a bad mood (believe it or not). But it was, none the less, just one of those days. It started when I burnt the pancakes. Almost as impossible as burning soup when you consider I don't mean I burnt one batch on one side. No, every last pancake was crispy, and a few non-edible. Pretty sure pancakes shouldn't be crunchy. It set off the smoke alarm, and I opened doors to get some of the fog out of the house. So we sat, eating crunchy pancakes under the fan in the freezing cold. Nice.

Blessing melted under the noise of the fire alarm, of course. I'm very much so realizing she definitely has some kind of sensory issue, mostly with noises though some seams and tags/materials bother her, too. I already knew it, but it seems more pronounced lately. Do things like that get worse?

It was very cold and wet here, but I actually kind of like those days occasionally. I wasn't feeling the best in the world, and so it was a great day to spend curled up with books (currently re-reading Karyn Purvis's Connected Child, The Dragon Rider to the big kids, and a Junie B. book to the littles) and movies and stay in pajamas. As the day went on I felt worse. I never actually took my temp, but I'm assuming I had a high fever since I was alternating between chills and then that cold sweat that feels horrible. I spent the better part of the day in the recliner, piling on blankets while I shivered, and then agitatedly throwing them off while I sweat to death.

In the morning I had sent my mom a text message. My sister and I love to text each other, and we've been on Mom hot and heavy to join us. My mom is young and hip (is that laying it on too thick?), and never once did I think it was about ability, but about being frugal (she doesn't have a texting plan). She's also kind of turned off to it (as was I before I got addicted) by other people's rudeness with their phones. My text was just a typical, sweet, Good morning, Have a good day kind of text. My sister and I had decided to send her a text everyday until she gives in and gets a plan. Because you know she can't leave them unopened. The suspense would kill her.

That evening, I got a text back. In all caps. Mom, that means you're yelling. Did you mean to yell at me? The text said, "I CAN DO IT BYE". I busted out laughing. Which was needed cause currently 6th grade math had both Faith AND I in tears. I told ya, one of those days. Faith was reading the text(s) along with me, and we both needed that smile. I quick texted my mom back, saying glad she can do it, but I can't do math. Explaining we were in tears. Now if that doesn't rise a compassionate response from your mother, what will?

Then I get back, the same message a 2nd time, "I CAN DO IT BYE". Now Faith and I are really laughing because it's obvious she can't. Even though she did yell at me twice and I was already in tears, we over looked that part and wittingly replied, "Are you sure you can do it?". And then we quit math and giggled over it more while we soothed ourselves with chocolate and coke. I said , "Math sucks". And then Faith (12 years old) gave me a speech about the word "sucks". I'm getting that mother-of-the-year award this year, dang it.

Napping Turtles

2010-02-04T07:51:00.000-08:00

Gracie drew a map yesterday.

A treasure map. Then she cracked me up telling me about her adventures trying to get to that pirate's treasure. That's "Snake Lake" at the top. And she told me about it with all the drama and fear (complete with trembling) of having been in that lake before, surrounded by snakes... some big enough to swallow her whole, and some no bigger than her pinky finger. She barely got out alive. So glad she had the "back scene" to keep the poison from killing her.

Then there is "Flower Hill". Thank goodness she could rest and sing something equivalent to "Sound of Music" while dancing and twirling.... I assure you I got the whole show. I wasn't really paying attention to the whole thing. Bad mothering, I know. But the child can do this for FOR.ev.er.

Sometime hours later we finally got around to the Napping Turtles. If you want to see one it's over there on the left with the purple head. I said, "You mean snapping turtles?". And she laughed. Whole-heartedly like I was the funniest thing on Earth. And then said, full of smiles and giggliness, "Silly momma, turtles don't have fingers."

Wordless Wednesday

2010-02-03T04:32:00.001-08:00

The System

2010-02-02T07:56:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I read this post, which was prompted by a question asked by a social worker who just so happens to frequent by blog, too. I love knowing she's reading, and I love it when she has input, it's just a whole different perspective than my own.

I'm not funny, and I would much rather you go read her post than the rest of my own... she's hilarious yet packs a punch and always makes me think. And I need reminded often that Charity and Blessing feel and act the way they do for darn good reasons. I know the world won't bend to them because of they're misfortune, and that beating their past to death with a stick does them no good... but neither does ignoring it or expecting them to just get over it.

Anyway that post really got me to thinking about our experience with the system, my biggest frustrations as well as what went well. For us, with every single placement, I really did feel as though each worker got into the field for the right reasons. That they loved the kids, and wanted what was best for them. I think of social workers kind of like I do teachers... most of them (there are those stinkin few) love kids and are good teachers that are just trying to do the best they can while working within the system that they have to abide by. They see the flaws sometimes even better than we do, but law, administrators, etc., force them to follow guidelines they wish they could toss out the window. ;) Add that there are too many cases (or students) per worker/teacher, and you get overworked, underpaid, frustrated and sometimes calloused workers. All that rambling to say I have loved my workers. Yes, some have been better than others about the visits or about letting me know all that is available to the child in terms of clothing allowance, etc., but each one has loved my children and I really believe wanted what was very best for them.

My frustration... no... deep, fueling anger... comes from the seemingly nonchalant attitude towards families who want to become foster or adoptive parents. We have encouraged and watched 3 different families that would make GREAT families... are open to older children and understand the complications of taking in abused/neglected kids (they know our RADling) try to get through the process... and yet 2 years later do not have open homes, or have open homes but have not been presented with disclosures. These are people who longingly desire to hold children, and knowing there are children who need them.... WHY AREN'T THEY TOGETHER???? Drives me insane. It's a HUGE problem in our state (AR).

I completely understand how overworked our adoption specialist, for example, is. I'm not pointing a finger at anyone, just saying SOMETHING NEEDS TO CHANGE. One family that I spoke of has the means to adopt internationally, they chose the state... they want to help these children. SO FRUSTRATING!

Paci Love, Mercy Love

2010-02-01T06:48:00.000-08:00

Mercy's the bestest baby ever. If all babies were like her, I'd have 6 more. We just carry her up (after a minute or two of rocking or singing or reading or all of the above), still wide awake, & lay her in bed. She holds those little hands out, which is our cue to put every pacifier we can find into her hands. Usually 4 or 5. Place her lovey and blanket in the crook of her arm, kiss her on the head and walk out of the room.

She's typically calm and laid back... though she does have her fitful moments. She is the baby, after all. 6 little mommas have answered her every whim all of her life. She's gonna be rotten! Cute, but rotten. ;)

Don't you want to just squeeze those cheeks?

Movie Night

2010-01-31T08:52:00.000-08:00

We have family movie night fairly often, at least a couple times a month.

My kids think the most important rule for family night is to bring every blanket and pillow there is in the whole house into the living room. Even the ones on beds. Silly girls! ;)

Of course popcorn is a tradition, and I often add some surprise down in their bowl... like a piece of chocolate or one or two candies. They've come to expect it, but it's still a fun part of movie night.

On this particular night, I desperately needed a grocery run but just didn't want to get out into the cold to go... so supper became whatever I could find for their little movie bowl. Sounds pitiful, really, but it was hilariously funny to TJ and I that the girls thought this was the best supper ever. They giggled with glee, and chatted to each other about what was in their bowl.

I kid not, I had 1 turkey frank, 2 cheese sticks, 1 box of raisins, a handful of froot loops, and popcorn. I sliced the turkey frank and cheese sticks as thinly as I could and divided them among the 6 bowls. Same with the other goodies, and ta-da... supper. And the kids were happy as ever. Why have I wasted all this time cooking?

This time we watched, "Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs". It was good, I think. I spent most of the time noticing my mouth watering and really wanted to eat everything that was falling from the sky. The cheeseburgers looked good. Then when breakfast with eggs and bacon and pancakes came raining down... that looked REAL good. ;)

I Will Love Him Again

2010-01-29T10:17:00.000-08:00

When he's done with this project. You'd think I'd have some compassion and understanding for the man who is working so hard to make a place where we can all sit as a family and eat supper. You see, we don't all currently fit. Yes, he is working very hard.

But that doesn't stop crazy-too-much-estrogen woman from being frustrated. There's a big gaping hole in my wall, folks.

And it's cold. And there is sawing and banging that interrupts babies napping and our school schedule. The table isn't accessible and so kids are spilling and making huge messes with meals. Not to mention the saw dust and nails and tools that are strewn all over whole house. Let's not forget my Blessing has some sensory issues and the noise is about to send her into orbit. The baby doesn't care for it much, either. She's funny about it, though. She goes to investigate when it gets a little quiet, but then hubby will bang a nail or crank up the saw again and she comes running as fast as her little legs will carry her into my lap.

Here' s the before picture. Kind of. He'd already taken down some molding and the furniture is moved out (into our living space and right smack in the way), but you get the general idea of what it used to look like.

And now for the swing (Yes, I'm swinging with the best of them these days)... I'm so excited about this little nook! He's putting in a bench around the bay window, and building a table that will better fit that area as well as our family. Yay! Stay tuned for after photos. Hopefully they will come very, VERY soon.

Finicky

2010-01-28T08:42:00.001-08:00

I've read all the books people. I know eating is a control battle that isn't worth fighting. I've even given advice to other moms about how to get their kids to eat food. Heck, I myself lived on cereal and chicken strips for years on end. BUT THIS KID IS DRIVING ME CRAZY!!!!!!

I know, they'll eat if they're hungry enough. I think I know it. That's what everybody says. But I'm telling you she just might shrivel up and die rather than eat ANYTHING other than peanut butter and honey sandwiches.

I know some of you RADical moms have RADishes and are dealing with it, too. But just for the record, this is not my RADilicious baby. Actually 2 of my born-of-the-heart babies are fantastic eaters. Hoarders and gorgers, in fact. I'm beginning to think that's better than this other yahoo that's gonna literally blow away with the next strong wind.

I can see the advice coming already. Really, I love ya for it, but spare me. I've tried it. I've not said anything. I've offered a wide variety. I've not fixed anything different for her and took the "eat it or don't, either way I don't care" attitude. I've let her not eat at all and ignored her bedtime pleas for a peanut butter and honey sandwich. I've not let it become a control battle between us even tho on the inside I was screaming "EAT THE MEAL, WHINY PANTS! CHILDREN ARE DYING IN OTHER COUNTRIES!" I know she'll grow out of it. (maybe)

Breakfast foods she likes. I fix peanut butter and honey sandwiches for lunch every. single. day. But she got to the point that she literally would not eat ANYTHING I fixed for supper. Tired of watching her waste away and go to bed hungry- & crying I might add- and frustrated beyond belief, I decided to take action. Go ahead, let me have it.

I told her if she didn't eat what was on her plate (it was more than reasonable), that same plate would be served to her at every meal until it was gone. Sure enough, 30 minutes after everyone else had left the table she was still whining in her seat. Real tears. Well, real in the sense that they were wet. How do kids do that? So I kissed her on the head, told her thank you for letting me know she just wasn't hungry enough, and that I would make sure she had that plate with all that yummy food for breakfast.

I really expected to serve it to her for 2 or 3 meals before she caved. But do you know that child ate it with a smile the very next morning? (the difference in RAD and just sheer stubborness) Even while everyone else was chomping down on pancakes?

I know I'll have to do that a few more time before it's all over, but I'm happy for the moment.

More Ketchup

2010-01-27T07:28:00.000-08:00

One Saturday during the summer the kids were invited to an afternoon birthday party where there were going to be a couple of big blow-up type water slides. Faith had a swim meet that day, too, but typically they are over by 2 or so, so we didn't think making both events would be a problem. So we loaded everyone up and went to the meet to cheer on biggest sister.

Only the cheering didn't last long. It was hot. HOT. Do you hear me? Middle of summer Arkansas, melt your eye lashes, can't breathe the air is so heavy kind of hot. Cheering quickly became whining. and grumbling. and sweating to death. Let's remember they are watching other people swim, while they can't get in the pool, and don't understand why. Miserable, I tell you. And so we began to bribe. I know, stellar parenting. We told them about the party. About the water slides. About how much fun it would be.

Except we missed the party. Yep, the meet ran too late. I felt so sorry for them.

Sorry enough to use the plastic from hell. The little rectangular one. You know, the credit card. Shhhh... we're on the beat-debt-build-wealth plan. Don't tell David Ramsey.

Waiting for it to be ready is SO hard!

Grace (Love that face):

Where Mercy went after the first splash in the eyes:

Even Dad was HHHHHOT:

So fun for everyone:

Catch-Up Blogging

2010-01-26T07:12:00.000-08:00

I have quite the swimmer.

It was actually 2 summers ago that I jumped in with her for a race. Keep in mind I'm ?-years her senior. And she was only 10 at the time. I expected to easily beat her. Or you know, being the good mother that I am, at least to take it easy and make it look like it was really close for her confidence boost. Um, no... she left me in the dust. So the second go 'round I gave it my all from start to finish. She still beat me by a body length. Not to mention while she was begging for others to challenge her, I thought I was going to pass right out. I couldn't breathe for an hour. Couldn't see without spots for 2.

Almost every weekday morning this past summer (and the summer before), she's practiced with a swim team from 7 to 9. She's such a hard worker, and thrives on the competition. Most of the kids (shameless bragging about to occur) would complain or whine about the tough workout, or at the very least not swim their best; my Faith, however, swims her hardest the entire time. From start to finish she's concentrating, working hard, giving it her all. I'm so proud of her!

For most of her swim meets this summer her dad and I took turns attending with her. We did brave one meet with the whole family (another post for another day - tomorrow, maybe) cheering her on, but most of the time her dad or I took her.

I think Faith might enjoy writing on herself as much as swimming. If you're new to swim meets, this is how the kids keep up with which events they are swimming, which heat, which lane, and which stroke for each event. They also would draw all over themselves, much like a pep rally or crazy football fans do... she would typically put a Warren Waves (her team) on one shoulder, and "Eat my Bubbles" on the other.

She's already looking forward to being a part of swim team this summer, too. Already asking when it will start.

Have Mercy

2010-01-25T07:14:00.000-08:00

Mercy is growing and her little personality is blooming... she's such a joy. Her favorite toys are clothes hampers and toothbrushes. Before you draw any conclusions, she has plenty of toys. She has baby dolls, lots of pull or push toys that make noise, light up, etc., etc. And she does play with those, too, just not nearly as much as clothes hampers and toothbrushes. Silly girl.

She'll get a hamper, push it around awhile. Load it with her blankie, paci, a book or two, then climb in. If she's lucky a bigger kid will give her a ride. They push her up and down the kitchen and living room... across the hard wood floor as if the hamper is a car or wagon. She'll often lay all the way down if it's one of the longer, rectangular hampers, and the kids act like she's in an ambulance. But if no one will indulge her in a ride, she'll just climb in and out, pack it down, dump it, pack it again, and push it around herself. Lately she's been using them as stools, too. She flips them over so that she can reach things I've purposely put OUT of her reach - the little monkey.

As for toothbrushes... I still don't get it. She just loves them. Maybe with an 8 member family she's witness to lots of brushing of teeth. And wants to join in? Like most babies with cell phones or remotes? Who knows.

She's Sick

2010-01-24T08:09:00.000-08:00

Mercy is out for the count, after being up all night with fever and vomiting. Poor Baby. Last time she did this, she got so dehydrated her heart rate skyrocketed and she became purply colored and ended up in the hospital for 5 days. So I'm not as laid back about her illness as I typically am with the others. I enjoyed cuddling with her while she clutched her blanket and cup and finally drifted off to sleep after a long night. Wanting to keep her in sight... I just left her there in the recliner for her nap.

We've had a nice morning, though... pancake breakfast with the kids on a sunny Sunday morning. Everyone is laying around, still in pj's, piles of blankets and pillows everywhere - enjoying a lazy day.

Disobedience

2010-01-22T07:12:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time there was a beautiful, young, amazing mother who ever-so-sweetly told 3 of her little darlings that they could, indeed play outside... just please don't get in the mud.

And so, her 3 precious little ones hurriedly put on their rain boots and scurried outside to enjoy the sun. Of course, you know that these children ALWAYS obey. Like the good little children they are. The end. Or not.

Do you see the discarded boots in the background? Children make no sense.

While the sun was warm all was wonderful. They thought not listening was grand fun. And then, as the sun began to slip away, it was no longer warming their little bodies. Cold, and wet, they decided they wanted to come inside. Which, of course, they couldn't do until they were hosed down.

This last picture cracks me up. It's so telling. Grace and Charity are both realizing maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all. They also look a little confused, like is mom mad? am I in trouble? usually trouble and getting my picture made doesn't go together? Yet Blessing is just as happy as ever. Still oblivious to the fact that disobedience has consequences. Cold, miserable consequences.

Don't feel sorry for them. After the hosing (from which the screaming should have elicited a visit from DHS, or a concerned neighbor) they got a warm shower, footie fleece pj's, a hot bowl of taco soup, and hot chocolate. I want their life.

Lookin' Like a Fool

2010-01-21T19:20:00.000-08:00

... with yo pants on tha ground!"

Yep, estrogen overload

2010-01-21T10:00:00.000-08:00

What he said: "If you want to go, then go. Obviously I always want you with me. But I know you're here all day everyday without much chance to get out, and I want you to go if it's what you want."

What I heard/felt: "If you go, it means you don't want to be with me the way I want to be with you (and you should feel really crappy and guilty about that)."

Sheesh. Poor guy. He has to live with me. What am I saying? I have to live with myself. And I HAVE to hear all my thoughts. Any of you other ladies this crazy?

Wordless Wednesday

2010-01-20T09:43:00.003-08:00

Oh, What I Would Give

2010-01-18T10:42:00.000-08:00

Today is a BEAUTIFUL day, and so we loaded the wagon with water, skates, tissues (one very sniffly sickly daughter who still wanted to go), and Mercy. All 5 bigger girls climbed on their bikes and we walked/rode a couple of blocks down from our home to our church, which just so happens to have a huge empty parking lot with some sidewalks that serve as perfect ramping spots. The church also has a great jungle gym, and we spent the morning riding, playing, and chasing Mercy.

Mercy is the perfect age for the slide. Her little face said it all, such self-satisfaction with the ability to climb the ramp, go to the slide, sit, and come down all on her own. Such glee from the slippery slide... she'd zoom down and her laughter made my heart swell till I thought it would burst. I would love to take pictures, and share with you, but I can't find my camera. Wasn't too worried the first day or two, but by now I'm thinking it may be really gone. I'm so sad.

After some much needed vitamin D, my husband treated us to the ever-so-rare lunch out as a family. We enjoyed our lunch (and I enjoyed not having to fix or clean), and we headed back home. Oh what I would give to be able to accurately explain the chaos that ensued in the van. To have a way for you to actually hear what we were hearing.

As is very typical of our middlest girls, all 3 were humming and/or singing. Nothing obnoxious, just singing to themselves. Someone who shall remain nameless. or not. It was Hope. Was rather frumpily huffing over the noise. "Make them stop, Puh-leeese." Which I thought was rather intolerant of her. And so I made a great suggestion. Let's all sing different songs at the same time. On your mark. Get set. GO!!!!

Oh, my.

Could you hear us, Canada?

Ms. Grump covered her ears, but everyone else was participating. Even Mercy, tho with a rather confused look, was adding her voice to the mix. I got so tickled I peed in my pants. Yeah, about that... everyone who's had babies? or do I need to see a doctor?

Anyway, amid all my laughing, and the loud noise, my husband literally yells, "STOP!". The scary kind of yell. The kind that produces immediate silence. The kind that made me look for the person we just hit or were about to hit, because it had to be that bad.

Then, my crazy man comes in with the next line, "collaborate and listen, Ice is back with my brand new invention..." and proceeds to rap. Um, ahem... He's white. and NOT that good. But it was HILARIOUS! All the kids busted out in ridiculous fashion. Like seriously, I'm wondering how they even know the song. How do they know how to do that sort of cheering and, "Hey, Ho, go dad" kind of thing. CRAZY!

Fairapy

2010-01-16T18:51:00.000-08:00

That's what Blessing and Grace call "therapy".

Between 4 hours in the car (2 hours one way -so worth it), double sessions, and lunch, therapy with Charity is an all day event. That's perfect, actually, because it gives us a day to ourselves. No sharing with 5 other girls. Total attention on her. And total enjoyment, too. She's more relaxed without being so worried a sibling might be getting more than she, or trying to control them, and therefore I, too, can quit trying to outwit her every second and just enjoy the beautiful child she is. We eat out... typically at our favorite, Pei Wei.... when weather permits we visit the park to chase the ducks and run off steam between sessions. We sing a thousand songs at the top of our lungs on the way there and back. Great, great days.

When I was a kid (ok, maybe as an adult, too), if someone mentioned to me they saw a therapist, I would've thought they were a few nuts shy of a cluster. Oh, I would respond with an ever-so-polite smile, appropriately, etc., but my head would be screaming, "NUTCASE!!". Yeah, I was stupid. But it's true.

All that to say I always had this sort of negative feeling or perspective about therapy. I've even been sort of guarded about sharing (you know, the whole cyber world doesn't count) with others the fact that we attend. So a few weeks ago when our therapist suggested we begin incorporating other siblings I was curious to how they would respond to needing to go to therapy, fully expecting to have lots of discussions and mold their attitude about it.

No. Turns out from their point of view, "fairapy" might as well be Disneyland. I mean really. You should of heard all the squealing and arguing over who gets to go first and excited chatter. Who knew?

So all but Mercy have had turns sharing our day with us, and all just LOVE fairapy. Like Grace has a meltdown every week cause it really isn't fair that Charity gets to go to fairapy and she doesn't. Poor baby. Sorry, kid, develop RAD or PTSD or something, then you can go. The child is seriously praying to be given RAD or something that needs help processing through so she can go to fairapy. **smirk, snort**

Don't you know some of our grown-up request sound about as ridiculous to God? Aren't you so glad He doesn't always give us what we ask for? Cause we totally don't get it, and He totally does. Ah, God is good.

Not Me Monday

2010-01-15T18:57:00.000-08:00

I am not posting a "Not Me Monday" on Friday. Just because I want to. Because I totally do not have writer's block at the moment.

I am not that hard pressed for something to post. I have 6 girls for crying out loud. And a crazy husband. Can't somebody provide me some material?

I did not buy a route 44 cherry vanilla Dr. Pepper. Because you know, I seriously have $3 to blow on a drink. And I seriously do not have heart palpitations or trouble sleeping after that much caffeine and sugar - even if said drink was consumed at 6:30 a.m.

I absolutely did not only have about 3 sips and then let that wonderfully evil thing go to waste. Gah! Kids are starving in other countries.

The cup did not stay in the cup holder in the van,... for, like a week or more (still full, liquid sloshing every big bump). You know, until it had mold in there.

Then, my Faith-ie pooh did not take a big fat gulp of it on day 8 or 9 or 15.

She also did not then roll down the window, and totally spew right out the side of the moving van. (Sorry to the folks in the green bug behind us)

And I absolutely DID NOT laugh my head off. Because, you know I'm a better mother than that. How inconsiderate could I be? NOT ME!

Adoption Day 2

2010-01-13T10:42:00.000-08:00

The very day after Charity's finalization 5 hours from our home, our family was due in court at a local courthouse for Mercy's finalization. There is no possible way typed words can get across the timing and miracle of it all. As deeply as I desired for Mercy's finalization, I prayed that hers would not be before Charity's. Charity had just waited so long. It needed to be her time. And she did not need to watch her family make another member permanent while she still teetered on that balance beam of "do I belong, too?" Can you imagine trying to celebrate Mercy's adoption with all the flare it deserves while another child STILL waits? We knew about Mercy's finalization weeks BEFORE Charity's. And my heart broke for her.

And then, with the snap of a finger (more like a breath from heaven), both dates were set, with Charity's FIRST. Wow. God just blows me away sometimes. Even with all the answering He's done over the years, I'm amazed again at His power, His faithfulness, and His willingness to give a desire, not a necessity, to me. to us. to Charity. Oh, how I love Him. And don't forget that this was just in time for Christmas. How much better does it get?

My husband and I diligently searched.. er, ahem, actually it was a little more like arguing and disagreeing.... for this little one a name. With our other born of the heart babies, we purposely kept at least part (almost all in Blessing's case) of their birth name. For Mercy, I suppose largely because we've had her since the day she came home from the hospital, I wanted the privilege of choosing her entire name. That shift in opinions about birth names also occurred after having a conversation with a very dear friend, now grown with children of her own, who was adopted. So, my hubby and I decided to part with her birth name and give her a complete new name. But then came the challenge of the name. Remember we already have 5 girls with names that start with "k". Most names I liked didn't start with "k", and my husband wasn't really going for it. I REALLY, REALLY, REALLY liked Eden, to which he gave a big fat "no", tho I begged and whined over and over again. We finally agreed on Kole, but with such a masculine/non-traditional name I felt the other name should be very traditional, classy, and feminine. He threw out Olivia. Hannah. Elizabeth. Sarah. and Lydia. Arg. If the first name can't be one of those, Kole is out, too.

Then, the afore mentioned friend who sheds light on adoption for me from her point of view, came to visit with her kids. She made a suggestion. Hmmm.... sure enough, it fit. It fit well. It was one of those moments when my hubby and I looked at each other.... and ACTUALLY agreed. ;) And there was a dash to the computer to find out the meaning/origin. Some sites attribute it's origin to tropical or Hawaiian. But of course when I tell the story I choose to go with the sites who attribute it's origin to African. That pulls her heritage in, it's a "k" name, and it's beautiful. AND it actually means "from a beautiful place". Well, you can't get any more perfect than that. A gift right from God's own heart is certainly a beautiful place.

Here we are on the 2nd day, with Mercy's judge and adoption specialist:

And then we went bowling with friends and family and had great, greasy bowling alley food (it was GOOD), and a celebration cake, and laughed at crazy kids, adults trying to bowl, and my wonderfully hilarious grandmother (73 - who spent last week snow skiing i might add) who just could not accept a low score. A GREAT day.

Adoption Day

2010-01-12T07:56:00.000-08:00

Our family with the judge:

The name:

The first name (pronounced uh-LEE-ah)is Hebrew for ascend or exalted, and we pray that is exactly what will happen: her little life will become God's shining glory, a story of his healing and love, a story that exalts Him, and lifts her. Her middle name is a piece of her birth name (the birth name had -lyn tacked on the end of it), and it's what she's been called since birth even though her given name was a little longer. That fits perfectly because all of my girls' names start with "k". Plus I do like to keep a part of what their birth moms have given them. I typically call her the double name, and Grace has followed suit. Most everyone else just sticks with the middle name. And that's perfect. If asked, Charity actually says she prefers a pet name, (ka - ty - bug). I think that's because no one has ever used it negatively. Smart girl!

I have so much to catch you up on with Charity. She has been officially diagnosed with RAD, now, and we are SO thankful to have a therapist who actually gives a flip, (yes we've had one that didn't), and who seems to know just how Charity's brain works. She doesn't let Charity get away with any of her manipulation games or lying or "forgetting" her manners or whining. She has high expectations and holds Charity to them. All the while genuinely loving her, caring for her, and helping me to do the same. Oh, I always loved, but with a RADish, love just isn't enough. Typical parenting doesn't work. And I'm so thankful we finally have a therapist who is working with our family! What a huge difference from this day when I totally took a nose dive and was about ready to give up.

On with the adoption day! Charity had said in therapy that she did not want to change her name. And her therapist and I both inferred that she actually just didn't want to be adopted. Armed with ideas from her therapist, Charity and I talked diligently, worked on her life book, helped her understand the process and what adoption really means, and worked at getting to the root of the problem. I gave her some options, like not changing anything but her last name. Nope. The last name was what she wanted to keep. Non-negotiable in my book. Finally one night as I was going over all that would happen at court, explaining to her what the judge would say and grant us a family, she said, "What if he says no?"

Can you hear her fear? That baby is no stranger to court. She knows what happens there. People leave. New people take you away. The judge just might say "no." So I bawled. Blown away by her fear and that she would share it with me. Oh, my sweet baby girl.

Charity's adoption happened in a little court house nearly 5 hours from our home, and since we had to be there at 9 a.m. we set out the day before and stayed in a hotel where the girls could swim. We spent the evening before swimming, celebrating, and loving our time together. At court Charity did not become obnoxious or over-the-top giggly or any of the things we typically see when she's nervous. She clung to her daddy who had told her so gently that he would not let anyone take her away, and that he would be right there with her the whole time (you know, when I couldn't stop crying and get it together to say anything in response to her fear). She did fabulous. Now Christmas is another story, but I was happy to watch her conquer a trip, and fear like that! Ah. mazing. We are so blessed to get to be her family and a part of her life!

Swim time:

A Work in Progress

2010-01-11T11:04:00.000-08:00

As is my whole life. About a week ago I sat down and read over some of my old posts. And though I don't exactly have the itch to start back up again, I realized how I much of our lives I now don't have journaled! I loved reading back over and remembering things I would have completely forgotten had I not blogged about them... so... here we go, again.

So the most hilarious thing about the blog change is that that sweet baby girl in the header pictures is totally not mine. My computer incompetency has once again reared her ugly head, and I can't for the life of me figure out how to change those photos. But I'm working on it!

Meanwhile I have LOTS of catching up to do. So much has happened since my last post, much of it I hope to go back and post about, so one day my family and I can remember all that we were feeling and thinking and doing. For now, I'll just give you the quick version: We got a family for Christmas! We finalized Charity's adoption (I'll share her real new name, it's meaning, etc., later) on Dec 16th, and the very next day in a different county finalized Mercy's adoption (dido on the name, meaning, full story). Now everyone has the same last name, and these are officially sisters:

Wordless Wednesday

2009-05-13T08:11:00.001-07:00

4 Limbs

2009-05-12T05:06:00.000-07:00

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

2009-05-07T07:46:00.000-07:00

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

2009-05-03T20:01:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-30T16:54:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-29T06:39:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-06T14:42:00.000-07:00

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.

Yes, I'm still here

2009-04-06T10:56:00.001-07:00

And I have pictures to share, and stories to tell! Unfortunately there are only 24 hours in a day, and I need to sleep for at least 4 or 6 of them. Lots of changes are looming for us... exciting, wonderful changes that are also scary and stressful. We will definitely be moving soon, but exactly where is still up in the air. TJ will be moving into full time ministry, and while we think we know where, it isn't an absolutely positively done deal, yet. We should hear about the church we just expect to be our home by next Monday. We spent the weekend with that church family and had a great time getting to know some amazing people. They had a sign out in front of the church, that I SO wish I had a camera with me to take a picture. They had put all 8 of our names on it, and just barely had room for all the names! ;) Too funny.

Meanwhile I made yet another trip to the doctor this morning with one of our little ones. I think that my family alone funds that entire medical center. They should put like a statue out front honoring our contributions. This time, we have a referral to a surgeon, and will be discussing a hernia repair for Blessing.

Mercy had court last Thursday, and maybe I'm not crossing any privacy line if I say it is looking more and more likely that we will have the opportunity to adopt her. I had to testify, my first to do such a thing (I am the only one who is still in contact with her birth mom). It was raining, and they were ahead of schedule by 30 minutes. I had run from our parking space to the building with baby wrapped up against me to avoid her getting wet. Out of breath, I walked into the court room to an already proceeding case. They immediately asked me to testify, and I could hardly talk! SO embarrassing. Nothing is set in stone, but the next court date, in early June, will likely be a termination hearing. They are actually calling it a fast track termination. In June, she'll be 9 months old. What about that is fast? Sheesh.

I have lots to share about our Charity, too, and will try to get that hammered out for ya soon! I know I'm losing readers by the day, but I'll eventually get back on track. ;) It's just such a blur of a season for us right now. We're trudging forward, though. One step at a time. One prayer at a time. And trying to enjoy life along the way!

My week in a Nutshell

2009-03-27T06:51:00.000-07:00

This week I have:

- called poison control. Blessing drank about 3 quarters of a bottle of cough and cold syrup. And the poster child for ritalin became even more hyper. Didn't think that was possible.

- sold my house. Er, um, at least signed a contract with a tentative closing date - April 30.

- took Grace to the doctor, where she proclaimed to the doctor before the exam that she had an "ear defection and I need Auntie Body Tics." Doctor S replied that she loved people who self diagnose, and I admitted we "borrowed" the otoscope before the doctor came in and I had already seen the "defected" ear. She had a little help with her own diagnosis. After all, Doctor S is the one who taught me what to look for in the first place. Ah, I miss being a nurse some days.

- took Grace to the doctor AGAIN. This time because she let Blessing stuff toilet paper all up her nose. Actually, my husband made this trip, and did nothing shy of laugh his head off as Dr. S made Grace repeat after her, "Nothing goes in my eyes, ears, mouth, or nose unless Mommy or Daddy say so." And when she got home, I added, "or any other orface." Oh, yes, I did go there. ;)

- house shopped twice to no avail. Am getting worried. With foster children in our home, where we move to is EXTREMELY important. As in, could lose children over such. I'm losing sleep.

- realized Blessing was too quiet, found her in her room, painting the walls with something blue and lots of sprinkles. LOTS of sprinkles. Realized it was the contents of the lava lamp, which she pulled off the shelf, broke, and then proceeded to rub her hands in, getting them nice and covered with the sparkly blue mess, and then rub all in her hair, all over the wall, and all over her little book shelf. MInd you, the blue liquid actually came up fairly easily, but the sprinkles? oh, my. EV.Ry.Where. And they do not vacuum, wipe, or sweep up. You must pick them up One. By. One. with your finger and thumb. Lovely.

- Later the same day, wondered why Blessing was broke out in hives? All over her legs. And then I remembered, the blue liquid she bathed herself in. Yep, severe reaction. Benedryl, and then again the poster child for ritalin becomes even more hyper. Gotta love that!

- played in the rain.

- burnt soup. Now I ask. Really, has anyone else EVER burnt soup? How is that possible?

And while this may sound pitiful, it's really beautiful insanity. A welcomed chaos that I'd be lost without. And when I finish my race at least I'll be able to say I completely emptied myself, and ran with all my might! And I'm betting I will miss these days. Though a break sounds really good. Just typing it all makes me tired. ;)

46 months

2009-03-23T09:53:00.001-07:00

Blessing was 23 months old when we first met her.

Which makes this month the month that she's been with us half of her life. This is supposedly a big mile marker for us. I can't say I see any difference. I suppose it's sort of like a birthday. Today, she's really no different than she was yesterday. Or at least, the growth is to tiny we can no longer see it. But we're here! She's lived with us half of her life! Woo-hoo!

But it is amazing to think back on what she was like in those first days, months, and even her first year. She's not the same kid at all! Just a few days into her stay with us, she was sick and I took her to the doctor. I'm not sure there has ever been a single situation that was harder than that one. This was a little one who would scream when I held her for any length of time. A few minutes she could handle, if we were looking at a book, or walking to the swing. But quickly holding became threatening, I suppose, and she'd go rigid with her tiny little body. She'd scream. She'd kick. She'd bite. She'd spit. A place like a waiting room was horror. There was no keeping her in my lap or holding without the rage. There was no letting her down, either, because she'd quickly run over to someone else and bite or spit at them. Hours I felt the scrutinizing gazes of other parents who were certain I was a terrible parent. Certain I had caused this little one to be so defiant and out of control. Lovely day, that was. I also distinctly remember that after an hour of trying to console the inconsolable, as I was walking around the waiting room with her fitting self in my very tired arms, she reached her tiny hands out to an older black gentleman sitting in a chair, also waiting. Blessing had lived with a black family prior to living with us. He was familiar.

He reciprocated the reach, and I let my baby go. She laid her head on his chest and went to sleep. It took all I had to choke back tears. It was bitter sweet. Thankful for a moment of comfort for her. Thankful for his willingness. Yet feeling not only scorned by the mass waiting parents, but also wondering if she would ever view me as her mom. I loved her so much but she reciprocated nothing.

And something else I couldn't really explain.... she walked. It was like walking was her therapy or something. For months I could stand in one spot, and hold her hand as she walked around and around and around me. Eyes down. Arms out and up for balance though she was too old to still do that. Or if I walked with her, she'd walk for miles. We spent hours walking. And hours in our front porch swing. TheY were about the only 2 places she was relatively happy.

Her hair would fall out in globs when I brushed it or pulled out a rubber band. Her gums bled when I brushed them. Not to mention the screaming she did about it all. A bath? pure torture. I had to sit on her and hold her arms down with my knees, and pry her mouth open to brush her teeth. If my husband or I started at her quickly, even if it was in play or to grab for a quick hold, she'd fall to the ground in the fetal position and throw her hands over her head. She only grunted one or two (I only remember one... "dog", oh wait, maybe she said, "shoe"). They were deep throat grunts, not toddler sounding words. Know what she said the other day? "I'm not going to be your friend No more! I called thousands of times, and you didn't answer!" Full sentences. Completely understandable. Very big words for someone not talking at all at 2. I know you can't be as excited about that as I am.

And what else today? Well she can certainly be a defiant little cuss. And there are some neurological/developmental issues that show their head occasionally. I think there will likely always be some hints that she was exposed to drugs and alcohol long before she took her first breath. But they aren't going to stop her from living a life that's full, abundant, or from accomplishing anything she wants. She's bright. She's beautiful. She eats with a fork (hey, let's celebrate the little things, too). She is very likely our most affectionate child, very sweet and can be very sympathetic towards her sisters (something we were beginning to think we'd never see). I'll never forget the first time we hurt our feelings. Oh, she cried, and threw fits all the time when she didn't get what she wanted. Or when I was brushing her teeth. But not that sweet cry even Mercy already does if my voice is too harsh. Or the cry you get from most toddlers when they realize they did something wrong. They wanted to please. They were trying. We didn't get that from her for a very long time. When we finally did, and she tuned up and cried real, genuine tears; my husband and I looked at each other and cried, too. I've never been so glad to hurt a kid's feelings! ;)

These pictures are literally her first hour with us. Sweet aren't they? They look very different than the picture I've painted. But, you know, she didn't decide she didn't like us until that night at bath time! tee-hee! ;)

Ode to Nana

2009-03-18T12:18:00.000-07:00

Things are just so busy! Mercy has had some continuing medical issues... I plan to explain more later, complete with pictures of her during an episode... but the bouncing from the hospital to doctors and more doctors added to the normal chaos that surrounds having 6 girls, and I just haven't had the time to sit and type. I want to move the blog over to private complete with pictures and layout change, but I just can't get it all together! ;) Soon. Maybe.

Meanwhile, my mom is my biggest blog fan. Ever loyal, she is. And when it's been only a couple of days since my last post, she says, "when are you going to start blogging again?" Like I quit or something. Truth be known, I love knowing she's reading. I love knowing she likes what I write (though she said the cat story was only mildly amusing????). I love knowing if no one else clicks over here today, she'll make up for it! ;)

Let's not forget that this woman gave birth to me. And where would this world be if I hadn't made my entrance?

And then there's the bail outs. Many, many, many over the years. The last referral we got for Mercy came in the form of a phone call on Monday, for an appointment at the Children's Diagnostic Center in Little Rock the next day. Who do I call to bail me out? My mom, of course.

And she shows up the next morning not only ready to keep my kids, but to actually enjoy them, play with them, and love them up. In she comes with a box of goodies. I'm still hearing stories I'm not so sure about from the girls. Something about a dance-off (in which Nana participated, and the stories are told with great animation), something else about a house and a fly that they can't find, there were markers made for the body (and marks all over them as proof), home-made tambourines, and a "for real" dance she's teaching the oldest 2 for a program at church. All that, and supper waiting on me when I got home with the baby. She even called today to see if our RADelicious little one was in need of detox today from all the fun. She did start the morning with a bang, but she seems to have settled right back in. I need to do a post all about her and her improvements lately, but I'm a little afraid saying the g-o-o-d word out loud will suddenly reek havoc on our house again. Who wants that?

So, you owe my mom for this post. Who thinks something is wrong if NOTHING is here for a few days. At least someone misses me! ;)

I'm Not Missing Anything

2009-03-10T06:29:00.000-07:00

For those of you who think that because I have 6 girls, and not one boy, I'm missing out on something.... Let me remind you of what I do have:

A husband.

Who makes up for it a few times over.

This morning, after the usual 15 minutes of standing under the warm water in the shower, willing myself to start the day rather than climb back in bed, I threw on my robe and stepped out of the bathroom just in time to hear the screeching of the cat as she wheeled around the corner of our bed, ran head first into the glass sliding door, screeched again, flipped over pretty much in the air, and ran like a Satan himself was after her the other way. I've only seen her that possessed one other time....when she got stuck in the Christmas tree and ornaments and pine needles and lights and cat fur were all flying in different directions.

Curious to the core, I ran after her into the living room, where my wonderful boy of a husband sat in the floor, laughing, with a lighter in his hand. "You didn't."

"Well, I learned something new today."

Already regretting that I was biting his bait, I answered, "Oh, yeah, what's that?"

"Cat hair is very flammable. I assure you she should be no where near a fire!" He retorted, with all the glee of a boy at Christmas.

Of course my look was less than enthused, and quite sympathetic for the cat, who is living with a RADling as it is, now I have to add my husband to the list?

He went on to say he was lighting a candle, and it was just an impulse to click the lighter at her as she walked by. But the "poof" that followed was as if her hair were lined with hair spray. She's OK, he assured me. Only the whiskers around her eyes were gone. She can balance without those, right?

Stuck

2009-03-05T06:56:00.000-08:00

Grace somehow managed to do this to herself. You can imagine the initial squealing when she realized she was stuck. I came running like a bat out of hades in response to the scream, certain blood was gushing, or a bone exposed, or something equally painful. When am I going to learn?

When I saw what she was squealing about, I ran for the camera. Forget saving the kid. The picture is more important. Grace immediately went from child-in-danger-save-me-drama mode, to what-do-you-mean-get-the-camera-instead-of-rescuing-me mode. Seriously, the face switched in 0 seconds flat from horrified to complete disgust and confusion. And with all the teenage sounding sarcastic tone she could muster, said, "Really, Mom? Must you?"

Walking Commercial

2009-03-02T06:35:00.000-08:00

... for Ergo, that is. Because this is how we spend most of our day. And when people say things like, "Do you hold her all the time?". They really sort of mean it in a you're-spoiling-your-child-and-you-don't-know-what-you're-doing kind of way. But that's ok. I don't mind. Because I do know exactly what I'm doing. I'm making my bed. And I'm the one who will lay down in it (I think, it's looking that way, anyway). You see, parent a RADling, and you'll be all about attachment and bonding, too. I promise. Especially for a little one who is quite at risk for the same thing.

But the truth is, even if she wasn't, I'd be doing the same thing! ;)

Oh, and, by the way... the kitchen and cooking were photoshopped in. Because I would never wear a baby on the front and cook at the same time. What mother would do that? So unsafe!!!!!! Maybe I should have done a "Not Me Monday". ;) And, the picture was taken by a munchkin, hence the cut-off head. At least you can see my smile!

Lazy Sunday

2009-03-01T09:22:00.000-08:00

Hospital

2009-02-27T15:43:00.000-08:00

That's where we've been. Mercy was put in on Monday, very dehydrated. She had both a bacterial infection of the colon (c-diff, for those nurses out there) as well as rotavirus. Lovely combination. I assure you. But I'll spare you the details. We came home last night, very tired, but very happy to be at home. Our ordeal may not be over, as the rotavirus often takes 2 weeks to runs it's full course. It's quite likely we'll be back for more fluids before it's all over. We're happy to be in the comfort of home for now, though. No rest for the weary in that place!

I so have been dying to post a particular experience I had this past Sunday. My husband and I led worship at a little church in the country Sunday morning. Very laid back. Just his guitar, and he and I singing. We were a little apprehensive that being so traditional of a church, the body wouldn't participate in worship, but rather view it more as a performance by us. We so wanted to lead others... not put on a show. Turns out, this little church knows the God we do, and they were anxious to glorify Him.

Very aware of the tendency as a musician to be caught up in performance and perfection of the music/singing, my knees were still a little sore from all the pre-prayer. I so wanted to reflect my relationship, not show my skills. (I realize that may sound conceited) Anyway, about half way through one particular song my husband quit playing his guitar all together. Up until that point, I could really only hear myself, his voice, and his guitar. Though I could see the body of Christ worshipping their bride. I had closed my eyes about the time his guitar dropped out, and left only the sound of voices singing out praises to their Creator.

And then.... a dying cow. Really. Some horrible sound I didn't think was singing at first. There's no way to describe it over the computer. You really need the audio version. It reminded me of my first attempts at the french horn. Or a momma cow giving birth. And words indistinguishable. A very monotoned, flat sound, the ends of the notes (can't really call them notes, just wails) falling even farther from the original pitch. Let me remind you my eyes were closed. I almost laughed. I know I stopped singing. And thought, "What the heck IS that?". But not wanting to just bug my eyes out like every cell in me was begging me to do.

So, being ever so proper, I only opened one eye. I had to pretend to still be in the worshipful spirit, right? Stupid. But I'm awful glad I took a peek. I would have missed the most beautiful thing ever if I hadn't. Proper or not, I'm glad I looked. Never much was one for proper, anyway. Why start now?

There, just a couple of pews from the front, stood a beautiful young lady with Down's Syndrome. Singing and loving her Jesus with all her heart. In a much more pure, innocent, and full of trust kind of way than I could ever do.

And suddenly, what I had just moments before thought was, well, a dying cow outside the church window - became the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. If only I could sing like her. And hear like Jesus. Amazing.

The Things Moms Know

2009-02-13T08:46:00.000-08:00

I overheard a conversation a day or two ago. Who knows what I was doing... maybe trying to decide for the thousandth time this week who the pair of socks I just picked up belonged to. And better yet, whether or not they'd been worn long enough to be declared dirty, or should they be re-folded and put back into the clean basket. Or maybe I was chasing a kid with a lotion bottle, or maybe I was running from one end of the house to another with no real purpose at all. Trying to remember what it was I walked back there for.

Nevertheless, I was within ear shot of Blessing and her daddy. She was declaring to him that she needed to play with the snow whites. Perplexed, her daddy had allowed her to pull him by his pinky finger, as she pleaded all along the way for the snow whites. She led him to a closet where we keep books, puzzles, and lots of keep-em-busies. She stood there, pointing, jumping, and growing more and more irritated with sweet daddy because he had no clue what the snow whites were.

Shameless and rude, maybe, but though I knew right away what she wanted I reveled in the fact that I knew, and he didn't. Let him struggle for awhile, right? Swooping in to save the day at the perfect moment, I leisurely walked by and ever so cleverly and not at all in a I-know-everything kind of voice said, "She wants the lite brites, honey."

All that to say... It really is wonderful to know my kids so well. To have the honor (which, by the way, I have the honor because of my husband, this is not meant to somehow bash what he doesn't know) of being with my children, and knowing that "snow whites" really means "lite brites". And that only this blanket will do. To add more peanut butter than honey on this one's sandwich and not to give that one more than one helping of grapes...unless you want to spend the afternoon in the bathroom with her. I know that face means she's guilty, and that one means her day hasn't been great and she needs warm cookies and milk and an sympathetic ear. And while I certainly don't know everything, isn't is phenomenal how moms can go on for hours with examples like this? And that there really isn't anyone else in the world who knows that much about our little ones?

Dear Blog,

2009-02-06T14:14:00.000-08:00

Oh, how I have loved thee. Oh, how I do not wish to call it quits. You've been my therapy. You've been my voice. You've been my connection to other women just like me... (and a few men who know just how to girl talk occasionally).

I've grappled with this. Really. Like it's some kind of life changing, really matters in the long run, so much weight on it, kind of decision. That alone says a lot about blogging. Or maybe it says a lot about my lean towards addictive behaviors. Because, addicted, I am.

I've needed this break. But, I do think I'm ready to go at it again. This time a little less often, and also a little more private. So, I don't really know how that works just yet. I'll figure that out as I go. I want to keep all 5 of you readers.... so, shoot me an email so that I can bring you along. It's brandy, then the underscore, then my last name. Which is files. And that's a yahoo account. That way I can post all the pictures I want and not be so worried about who might see them. Or you know, be that foster mom on the news being judged and jailed for posting pictures of the states' kids (oh, I HATE saying that - they're MY kids) on the internet for the world to see. I might even use their actual names! Then maybe their blog names wouldn't come flying out of my mouth. I actually had a kid ask me the other day, "did you just call me Grace? Whose Grace?" Cause, you see, she has no idea her mom posts her private life ever so blatant and carelessly. Using a name other than her own. Please tell me some of you have called your kids their blog name? I'm such a great mom!

So, shoot me that email, and over the next couple of days I hope to switch over to private, fix the site with a few more pictures, etc.

No Time

2009-01-13T06:41:00.001-08:00

Since apparently everyone in my house is reverting back to baby stage, I don't have time to write some amazing post that could make you laugh, or cry, or elicit sympathy for me. Nor can I make myself look like supermom, and neither do I have some major short comings that would leave you in hysterics. Ok, so maybe I do, but I'm not opening that can of worms this morning.

So, today I'm opting to send you elsewhere. Go. Please. This lady had me in stitches this morning. As she does often.

Husbands

2009-01-12T08:03:00.000-08:00

For the record, I have like the best husband ever. Really. And besides, he reads my blog. tee-hee!

As do about 3 other men that I can think of. Other than that, it's pretty much estrogen-ville. So to you 4 guys, sorry.

To the women... do your husbands do things like this? I mean, it really isn't a bad idea, but you'd think he could at least pick pink rubberbands. Or 2 of the same color. I was such a typical wishy-washy woman, trying to decide if I should post this on Works for Me Wednesday, or on crazy husband quirks. What does that say about me? Hmmm....

It's no secret that we have 6 girls. And I assure you that I am not one of those moms that has girls always in the cutest clothes, clean faces, matching shoes, and big bows. Do you read my blog? Have you seen the kid with the sparkly red shoes and her night gown in our yard? But really, I try. I promise. I occasionally even spend FOREVER french braiding everyone's hair. Especially if we're leaving the house.

But really, when he dresses them.... my word! He can't even make sure they fit. I once came home from an all day shopping trip to find an 8 year old in the 4 year old's pants. We're talking I have no idea how she zipped those things, much less pulled them down when she needed to potty. Like I couldn't have pinched the material if I wanted to it was so slick tight. And then there was the length. Um, it's winter... there are no capri jeans out! Sheesh. I can't remember what the others were wearing, but it was like a swim suit with a dressy skirt and cowboy boots or something equally ridiculous. And I'm absolutely certain not one of the 6 had even attempted to brush their hair or their teeth. And I have one kid who ties her hair in these huge knots over night. Yes, lovely.

Where had they gone? Only all over town. To Wal-Mart. To the park. Ate out at Wendy's. I'm sure there were lots of funny looks. And think... my loving husband thought it was because every one was proud of him for taking all his kids out all by himself. And they probably did dote on him, and wonder what kind of a terrible wife and mother there was back at home, refusing to brush hair or provide appropriately sized clothes for her kids.

You want to marry him, don't you? Oh... right, you already have one a whole lot like him! ;)

Encouraged

2009-01-09T12:22:00.001-08:00

I can't believe all the fantastic comments and outpour of support and encouragement. Isn't it amazing how people I've never met, some of who I still don't have a name for, readers I had no idea even frequented my writing, can provide some non-aloneness? And let me tell you, non-aloneness is quite the step up from thinking no one really gets it. Don't you love that word? I tend to make those up occasionally, along with fragmented sentences, or run-ons a mile long. How nice that I don't have to go open a can of worms because of it! ;)

For those of you who suggest running, that really is the biggest problem at this point. My anonymous fellow foster mom hit the nail on the head. We're talking about a ward of the state. I can't make that decision. Though I expressed my concern and frustration after the very first appointment. Apparently, a foster mom's opinion doesn't hold nearly the weight that the therapist's opinion holds. See, she has letters behind her name. And it's obvious we need therapy. I can't stop the therapy, of course, because there can be no disruption of services. I tried to explain I did not want to disrupt the service, just have a different provider. But you must move mountains to change providers, or at least have a valid reason. I suppose incompetency isn't a good enough reason. ho-hum.

But I must have really sounded pitiful. I posted that particular post just because I thought it was funny. I mean, the cat part, anyway. I certainly don't think our situation is funny, but then again, if you can't laugh....

I'm not feeling hopeless, though. You want to see a hopeless post, just visit here. That was the first day we saw this lady, and I crashed and burned the entire 2 hour ride home (that's how far I'm driving to get such good advice). An angel in disguise has already refueled me, sent me some names to research out as possible therapists (once finalization happens), and apparently has even put a care package in the mail. I'll tell you more when it arrives! ;)

Therapy

2009-01-08T07:36:00.000-08:00

So I would be completely ashamed of myself if Charity's psychiatrist somehow ended up here on the blog. But I so must blog this. It's just too ridiculous. And that seems to be the theme of my life lately.

The therapist and I have had little success getting on the same page. She's a kind lady who I think genuinely wants to help kids. I think I'm somewhat at fault because it's hard to really describe fully how things are going, especially when I know my own actions, feelings, and responses are being evaluated. And not as a mom. As a foster mom. One whose care could be considered not the best for this child. Then, bye-bye baby. So perhaps I'm a little guarded.

But I decided before this particular session that all gloves would come off. VERY frustrated with not really having any help. Oh, we go. And we talk. And there she sits across from me talking to Charity as if she's trying to talk her into better behavior. For 30 minutes every 4 to 6 weeks. I'm left wanting help and direction, and feeling like I'm not getting any. I'm reading all these amazing things about tapping, weighted blankets, specific parenting techniques for kids like mine. But what we get is 30 minutes of batting eyes, a high pitched voice, and pleas for better behavior. That's likely to work. Right?

So I went in hoping that clearing the air and setting out better expectations might help things. I started by saying maybe she didn't completely understand what I meant when I say we've had some really bad days. Maybe she didn't understand just how she's been acting out. My husband and I are very concerned and very alarmed at some of the things she's done. We're talking false allegations of abuse (Mom doesn't feed me, she doesn't let me play with toys, she'll be mad at me, etc.). We're talking pet abuse. Enticing first, then a swift kick. "here, kitty, kitty", then a few blows to the head. We're talking peeing in a drawer. Serious stuff, people. My kid is sick, and we need help. I even teared up. I didn't beg with my words but she had to see the stress and frustration and need for some direction.

So, she said that next time she hurt the cat, I should put the her in a kennel. For about an hour. So that she would have a consequence that she could physically see a response to her action.

I used so many "she's" in that previous sentence because that's exactly the way the therapist said it. My response? I busted out laughing. And said, "which one? The kitty or the kid?" I mean does that sound logical to you? Am I crazy? Is that a fitting consequence for Charity?

In my hysterical laughing I noticed her eyes bug out. A look I'm all too familiar with from my husband. It was that look like I had just dropped from outer space or something. A martian in her presence. And then I realized she was searching for whether or not I would put Charity in the kennel. And then I stammered and stuttered all over myself trying to explain that I didn't mean which one to put in the kennel. I meant, which one did she think that was a consequence for?

And she responded in her well trained way, "So, what I hear you saying is... (thoughtful pause while eyes blink)... Charity wouldn't really care if the cat was in the kennel? She isn't really attached to it?" Her EXACT words.

Again hysterical laughter. Um, NO. She has little to no attachment to ANY OF US. That's why we're here. For heaven's sake. Are we on different planets, here?

I went on to outright ask. What can we do? We don't know how to handle this. We are not even considering disruption, in fact, we just received word that we have been approved to adopt her. So finalization is coming and we celebrate that joyfully. But our kid is sick. And just like if she had cancer or some other disease of the body, we want her very best chance at life, and the very best treatment we can find.

And she says we're doing just fine. It will just take time. And unfortunately, Charity may be a tough nut to crack.

Really. Her words. Not one exaggeration.

And what's really telling, is I just told this woman my kid is abusing animals, lying like crazy, and peeing in a drawer. She said I could make another appointment if I wanted to. I asked how soon. She said in 4 to 6 weeks.

She's getting paid for this.

Reactive Attachment Disorder

2009-01-08T06:05:00.001-08:00

RAD is kicking my butt lately. The blog is like my free therapy. I mean, I know I haven't said much about what's going on in my house, but I read some amazing blogs written by awesome moms, and this new one that you should REALLY read. If you know us, if you know my Charity, if you want to understand a little bit about how a RAD kid thinks and acts.... go read this beautiful little girl's journey to healing from RAD. She's 8, and she's making a huge difference even in my own home. This post, in particular, where she answered a lot of commenter's questions left me floored.

I'll try to post again later today and tell you about therapy yesterday. Hilarious. In a nervous, ridiculous, this can't be happening sort of way. But of course, at the moment, a baby is crying, a RADling needs attention, and Blessing is nowhere to be heard. Uh-Oh.

One Word Wednesday

2009-01-07T05:54:00.001-08:00

Cheese!

Saturday

2009-01-06T09:59:00.000-08:00

Another fabulous present we received for Christmas was a family pass to the Museum of Discovery. So we loaded up Saturday and headed to Little Rock for the day. The kids loved the museum! Here's just a few quick pictures, but if you live in AR and haven't visited here yet, it's definitely worth a trip. There are a couple of areas dedicated to kids 6 and under, rooms to check out building materials and create, plus all the great exhibits and fun things to see and do. Faith and Hope really enjoyed it, too, but these are just some pics of the little ones in the little kid rooms.

Grace and Blessing on the monkey bars, in what they called, "the work up room". Work out, maybe? There was a tread mill there, I have no idea what they meant! ;)

Charity climbing the wall. That was her favorite part. Well, other than the food.

How Mercy spent her day:

Girls, Girls, Girls

2009-01-02T18:52:00.001-08:00

A boy would just die here. Really. Kill right over.

After the kids so pleasantly and quickly, er..., um, ahem... so that wasn't exactly how it happened. Ok, after repeating myself way too many times and finally bribing, the kids completed their zones and the house looked amazing. Alright, so that's a stretch, too. It still looked rather lived in, but better than when we first got up! ;)

Stay with me, I'm getting somewhere. After chore time, I pulled another Christmas jewel from the middle girls' stack of treasures. They had been begging, and they quickly emptied the dress up bucket for the perfect ballet outfit. I popped their new instructional dance dvd in the player, and they lined up like little ducks across the living room. I sat behind them in my chair, snickering and snapping away. They were so cute I could have bit their little cheeks. Oh! So cute!

First they stretched just as the teacher and students were doing on the dvd.

Then, on to warming up and learning the names for a few moves. I didn't crop this one so that you could see the class on the tv, too.

Then, a real dance.

And last, but not least, Hope joined the class and Faith had to step in and do some instructing of her own. She's such a first born. Sorry about the cut-off heads. I was only bouncing a fussy baby in one hand, trying to hold the camera in the other, and wiping tears from my own eyes over all the sweetness of them holding hands in that previous picture.

And if their little tooshies wiggled any more i really would have to pinch them. Maybe I did.

The Good News is....

2009-01-02T05:00:00.000-08:00

the batteries will die. One day. Right? Who gave this thing to this kid, anyway?

2009

2009-01-01T08:25:00.000-08:00

I'm through reflecting, now... on to the new year! I used to never ever make new year's resolutions. I figured why make them only to feel like a failure when 6 weeks in life was still the same.

Then I grew up. A little, anyway. I realized the problem wasn't with the idea, it was the unrealistic expectations I set forth. Or the perfectionism in me that throws me into fits of guilt and failure when I don't live up to my own bar. Grace, love, and mercy from my God was something I knew for others, and knew He had for me. I had not yet really accepted it for myself. And some preacher man called that what it was.... faithless. Not really believing God is who He says He is. And I let go a little and allowed myself to fail without it affecting my worth.

Well, some days, anyway. That's a daily struggle. Along with patience and kindness and most of the other fruits of the Spirit. Some moments it comes easily. Some moments it gets acted out with clinched teeth. Some moments it just doesn't happen at all, and I'm looking around for all the fruit. Where the heck did it go?

And I'm rambling on like this was not a planned post. That's sarcastic, by the way. I really had no direction at all as I sat down to type. I just knew today's post had to have something to do with the coming year.

I did make resolutions of sort, I suppose. But they aren't any different than the resolutions I make every morning before my feet leave the warmth and comfort of my bed and dive into the morning. Today, I'll be more patient. Today, I'll get agitated less. Today, I'll enjoy my children. I'll love harder and gripe less. I'll be gentle and soft spoken and meet my family's needs without a hint of frustration. I'll spend more time with my God, and less with the TV. I'll have supper on the table when my husband gets home (always, but most of the time it's half eaten and he eats by himself - something isn't quite right about that), and we'll all greet him with enthusiasm.

Maybe. Maybe not. The good thing is, I can try again tomorrow. That's what life is, anyway, isn't it? Striving for better, for more of what we know is good, and less of what makes our skin crawl with regret. Here's to a new year. A new journey. And giving God all the glory along the path.

2008

2008-12-31T08:48:00.000-08:00

I can't imagine any post being harder to write than this one. Looking back over this past year is exhausting, much less trying to express the range of emotion, all the happenings, in a few short paragraphs. It really can't be done, at least not and leave you with anywhere near an accurate picture. My, how many things can change in one year?

Exactly one year ago this evening, we piled into our Dodge caravan with our 4 children and headed to a friends house. There we met lots of other friends, with great food, played games right till midnight, and then threw confetti all over the place. It was a great night. Just before that Christmas, we had learned that Blessing's birth mother's appeal of her parental termination had been denied, and we would be able to finalize her adoption soon. It was a wonderful holiday season. One favorite moment happened just about Christmas time. Blessing fell and bumped her head. She began crying, and calling me, "Momma, momma, momma". I scooped her in my arms, and noticed the tears in my sister's eyes. "You're her momma", my sister said quietly. I teared up, too. It was only a short time before that she would not have wanted my comfort. All the hours of holding her while she screamed bloody murder and body remained stiff and rigid melted away. She folded to my hold. She looked me in the eyes. Her arms wrapped around my body. What a beautiful, beautiful moment. I was, indeed going to get to be this little girl's forever momma. What a Blessing. ;)

And though that moment didn't take place in 2008, it's exactly how we began our year. Early in the year (February) her adoption was finalized, and we celebrated with great joy!

Over the course of the year, 4 new children came to our home. We no longer drive a mini-van. We also gotten bigger versions of a washer/dryer, and extra pots and pans, too. Some children have left, some still remain. Each child's journey, short or long, has left a deep impression. Extreme highs, joyful celebration when children reach goals previously not known if they could accomplish. Sweet moments of tender love, family games and movie nights, bear hugs from 6 children at once. There is no better life. There were extreme lows. Researching problems, reading prognoses that are less than desirable, turning from one to another with no answers. Steps forwards. Steps backwards. Saying goodbye to children, when you know their chance out in the world is slim. Lower lows than ever before. Fits of rage (not only from my children), pleading with God like never before, hopeless at times. Yet Higher highs than ever before. More hope, love, blessings, joy, and peace than I've ever known. Even now, as I type, the warm breath of a newborn as she sleeps against my neck...the tickles in the ear when a little one has a secret to share... the utterly ridiculous moments having 6 children brings! There is just no other life I'd prefer..

He gives and takes away. Worship has new meaning. Relying on Him has new meaning. Family has new meaning. Friends have new meaning. Life is all new. More exciting, more precious, more sensuous. We've laughed, cried, hugged, and held on for dear life! I can't imagine more heartache, nor can I imagine life any more abundant than it is now. And besides, if all of that's what it takes to praise you, Jesus, bring the rain.

Grace's Christmas Favorite

2008-12-30T06:17:00.001-08:00

My husband's mom, who we call Mimi, loves Christmas. She loves our kids. She also loves gift giving. This combines for a mountain of treasures beneath her Christmas tree. She starts at the turn of the new year, and every gift carries with it lots of thought for that particular child.

I've mentioned Grace's love for her red dorosy shoes more than once. And her obsession with the Wizard of Oz is well known by all who care for her. Mimi lovingly made, yes, home-made, a Dorothy dress. She found her a new pair of ruby red slippers (this is her 3rd, the first two looking more than a little worn). Also in the box was a basket, which held tucked inside blue ribbon bows for her hair, and a little black puppy dog.

Mimi knew that Grace would love it eventually. But she wasn't sure she would know what it was right away. She thought she wouldn't recognize it as Dorothy's dress. I assured her she would, that she knew everything "Oz" very well. But Mimi continued to worry.

When Grace opened that particular package, she first pulled out the red slippers. "Oooooooo, Pretty", she said. She was excited already, and hadn't even yet noticed there was more in the box. Look at Hope's face. Isn't that precious? That's my favorite part of that picture... a big sister so lovingly anxious for her little sister to see her gift.

Next, she pulled out the puppy dog, stood, twirled him around, and exclaimed, "Oh, Toto!", with all the dramatic flare of a child who had lost her puppy months ago. I laughed. Mimi beamed.

The dress had to be put on immediately. You might have noticed it in her picture in the previous post. And as you might suspect it can only be torn from her skin with a fight, to be washed each night, and then to be donned again the next morning.

After all the gift opening, an aunt and uncle who she rarely sees, and doesn't really know, came for lunch. As fate would have it, her aunt's name is Dorothy. Grace bounced in with her little dress on, and Aunt Dorothy ravished her with compliments. Then she said, "You know, my name is Dorothy." Grace looked her up and down as if trying to find a piece of the Dorothy she knows in her dress or body somewhere. Then very matter of factly said, "No, it's not." And bounced off singing, "Flollow (not a typo, that's how she says it) the yellow brick road."

Long time, No blog

2008-12-29T15:17:00.000-08:00

Christmas has been wonderful, and I'm still just completely overwhelmed when I think of this last year. I desperately want to write that end-of-the-year- post that can at least give a tiny glimpse of how I feel about it, but words seem to fall so short, and lack any accuracy of it's depth at all.

So much is happening right at once! A lot of it, I can't share because of privacy to our foster children, and really absolutely nothing is set in stone. Yet the recent chain of events is leaving us with some real possibilities that completely change our future and how we plan for it. Mostly having to do with the number of children in our home, and how many we might joyfully celebrate as fully ours. That possibility is incredible, and would be nothing but welcomed. However, that does not mean that it won't bring it's own challenges, and change much about our life and future.

At least there is finally a new post, and even a few pictures to share from Christmas. My mom and dad got the middle girls these great little riding toys. EVERY. ONE. has had a turn on these things, not only the little girls, but the big ones, and the even bigger ones! That's my sister on one of them! ;) They aren't powered by pedals, and you don't push them with your feet. It's hard to explain, but they are "motored" by turning the steering wheel back and forth. TOO. MUCH. FUN.

Charity, pushing my sister... rather delightfully, I might add! I love the look on her fact! And my sister looks like a bug... she's 29, by the way, not exactly a little kid! I had a turn, as did my mom, too! hahahaha!

Charity, pushing Faith, and Grace:

Blessing:

Practice Sessions

2008-12-09T09:43:00.000-08:00

It must be some new fad I've bought into about raising kids. I can't tell you how many practice sessions we've had since Blessing's arrival in our home over a year ago. When Charity joined our family, then the ghost, practice sessions hit an all time high. I wish I had video taped some of them. I mean, we practice things "normal" kids don't usually need to practice. Like, with Blessing we practiced looking at the dog without falling into the fetal position and screaming bloody murder. Really. We would stand her in the room, tell her "Let's practice". Pull a stuffed animal dog out complete with mocked growling, and ask, "what are you going to do?" and I'd hold my arms out so she'd know to come to me when she was afraid. At first she didn't get it, but eventually the game of jumping into mom's arms became something fun. I'd laugh and squeeze her, and make a big deal. Then we'd put her back in the middle of the room and call Toby. Of course it took her awhile to come to me in the real situation, but you get the idea of a practice session.

Oh, the things we've practiced. We've practiced saying, "yes, mom" with a smile rather than folded arms and pouty lips. We've practiced putting an empty plate into the sink without licking it down, first. We've practiced a low, normal toned voice rather than whining. We've practiced getting in and out of the car seat quickly. Patting gently rather than way-laying. Petting rather than kicking. Looking at who you are talking to in the eye. Telling the truth. And the list goes on and on and on.

Just a few days ago I summoned all 5 older ones to the rug, where I then told them we'd been having some trouble. I told Faith to tell me "no" when I asked her something. I said, "Faith, will you help me put these dished away?" She said, "No". And then I threw the biggest, exaggerated fit possible. Really. Got down in the floor and kicked and screamed and said phrases common to the two born of the heart babies. "It's not FAIR!!!" and so on and so on. I did a good job. ;)

Then I asked her again. Again she said "nope." And I folded my arms and pouted and whined. You get the picture? We went through that cycle several times, with me giving different, yet inappropriate responses. The giggles were fantastic. Did you know throwing a worthy fit is exhausting? I had no idea my little ones were getting so much exercise! Whew!

From there, I suggested the kids ask me for something they commonly ask for. Then I had them first give the WRONG response. Then I had them give the RIGHT response. This was hilarious to me, because each one actually asked for something that they ALWAYS ask for. Something that drives me crazy, especially when they ask at the most inopportune times. Then, each one did EXACTLY what they usually do that is wrong. Might I remind you I did not tell them what to do, just to do the wrong thing. Faith rolled her eyes. Hope looked pitifully sad. Charity whined with all the flare we usually see. Grace did some fake crying complete with real tears. And Blessing cocked that little head to the side, jumped up and down, and proclaimed, "But, Mom...." and then fell into her fit. Really funny. It proves how devious they really can be, how fake the fits are, and how they often ARE in control when I want to chalk it up to something in their past. I'm NOT saying there aren't times when rage-full fits are a result of being overwhelmed and their little bodies' way of releasing major stress, but more times than not it is something they can control... or at least should be learning to control. Any way you think about it, it was certain proof they absolutely understand their normal responses are not correct, and they are fully capable of rising to the occasion and responding appropriately.

So... go practice! (If your kids need it, like mine!)

Fine Arts

2008-12-08T06:33:00.000-08:00

I began second guessing my decision to take my 11 and 8 year olds to "The Nutcracker" when one belched at supper and then hysterical laughter by all followed. One also managed to look much like a dog lapping up his food from a bowl, practically laying on the table. Forget not having elbows up there, how about entire torsos? There we sat, with friends, all dressed up, which we rarely do, and yet manners fled them. I had failed to have a lesson about concert etiquette before hand, and was realizing that maybe it wasn't such a good idea as I watched them have less than desired behavior at the dinner table. Not to mention they did not sit next to me, so I couldn't pinch them into properness. Though there may have been a kick or two under the table.

To be completely honest, I've never cared much about ballet. I understand the strength, dedication and hard work that goes into making something so incredibly hard look so beautiful and elegant. Really, I do. As a martial artist, I absolutely understand the strength it takes to hold a leg out so high for so long. And though every martial artist in the world would hate my guts and strongly disagree, I actually think it takes MORE strength to dance so gracefully than it takes to get through a form or break boards. But for whatever reason, though I completely respect and can even appreciate the art, there is not the same deep love for it that I have for the music alone. Oh, the music! It's too hard to put into words the love and adoration I have for such beauty. Even as they began warming up, I watched intently, listening to different instruments, each with it's own beautiful sound. Oh, how I missed playing, myself. I leaned over to Faith and whispered in her ear..., "I spent many an hour while you grew in my belly, playing in different bands, orchestras, and gigs like this." She asked why I stopped if I missed it so much. I understand the beauty of relinquishing something you love to focus on children and family. There just isn't time to devote to the kind of practice it takes to play on that level. But right at that moment, I had to wonder what life would be like had she not come so unexpected... my husband and I had dreams of touring, playing, and performing. And I couldn't bring myself to tell her she was the reason. At least, not like that. I was afraid she couldn't understand that though I miss it, and still dream of what might have been, she is worth every minute of anything I might have let go of.

And then, the lights dimmed and the ballet began. Faith watched intently for the first, oh, 2 minutes. She quickly faded. And though I expected her to enjoy it, her boredness (like that made up word?) was obvious. She wiggled in her seat, sighed often, and would have fallen asleep had I allowed her to lean over.

I thought my 8 year old, Hope, would fade like Faith did. I knew she would like it, but doubted her ability to really watch and enjoy the entire thing. But, oh, how wrong I was. That little one sat captured the EN. TIRE. ballet. She watched wide-eyed and softly whispered her amazement, "ooooo" she would say. Or , "oh, how beautiful". Or "Mom, did you see her?" "Mom, look at that!" "Mom, Did you see that?"

She had lots of favorite moments that she relived on the ride home. She laughed hysterically when Fritz received a spanking. She loved the life size dolls who could do amazing things with their bodies. She loved Mrs. Ginger and her children (one of which was a friend of hers who had auditioned for the part). And of course, the snowflakes were "the most beautiful thing." And lets not forget the arabian dancers, the chinese dancers, and the sugar plum fairy.

And now, she's BEGGING for ballet. And twirling ever-so-gracefully, or not, across the living room 50 times a day.

Morning Routine

2008-12-05T06:20:00.000-08:00

So the picture has absolutely nothing to do with the post. I was looking for an image (without uploading from my own camera) that would go with getting kids up in the morning. For some reason, my search words pulled this image, and I thought it was hilarious, and fit my exhausted mood. So there you go, the link between the post and the picture! ;)

I was telling a friend yesterday about our morning routine. Now, I must warn you that just a few short weeks ago our morning was NOTHING like this. At that time, we were home schoolers. We slept till 8 or so, mornings were leisure like, and it wasn't really until lunch or after that any real work was accomplished, chores/school or otherwise. The combination of choosing to put our kids into school, learning more about how to help RAD kids, and a need to affectively get everyone ready and in the car by 7:25 without spending my morning yelling and nagging, spurred my husband and I to hammer out a routine that works for us in the morning. I'm proud of how well it's gone, and thought I'd share.

First of all, I did some practice sessions with the kids. I talked, explained, posted some rules and chores, and even had the kids literally walk through the "morning" the way we expected. (Remind me to dedicate a whole post to some of the practice sessions we've had. You're sure to die laughing) Then, we started the first morning with a bang. I think one of the main keys to making this work is that we committed to not ask the kids over and over to get their things done. They don't get them done, breakfast is not served to them. I have had kids come to the table, only to be completely ignored as I spooned every one else's breakfast onto their plate. And yes, even my slightly delayed 3 year old knew what needed to be done and completed it without being told again. She screamed for awhile first, certain we'd break and remind her. And I'll even admit I wasn't sold. I wasn't convinced she understood why I was ignoring her and not putting anything on her plate. It was hard not to tell her again that her bed needed made and her shoes needed to be on her feet. You know what? After only a few minutes of ignoring, she went to her room, finished up, and came to the table with her shoes on. SUCCESS!!!! And then a little anger on my part, because that means the little toot has had me repeating myself senselessly when she really knows what she should be doing. ;) They're so much smarter than we give them credit for.

I wake them at 6:30. You'll be happy to know wake up call comes in the form of beautiful, loud singing on my part, "Rise, and Shine, and Give God the Glory, Glory!" Complete with enthusiastic clapping and ripping of covers to expose pajama'd bodies to the cold. Faith, just this morning, said with hands over her ears, "Really? I mean, really... must you? Must you do this EV.ERY. MOR. NING.?" In fact, Blessing is the only one that seems happy to see me and joins in song. I picked the right name for that one, huh?

I serve breakfast at 7. But only to children who are at the table, fully dressed with shoes on, whose beds have been made and rooms are clean. They also must have already brushed the hair and teeth. I realize the teeth thing is slightly out of order, but, I assure you there is NO WAY anyone's teeth would be brushed at all if we waited until after breakfast. Can you imagine? 5 girls gathered around one sink right about the time we should be walking out the door? Besides, nothing can be held over them as incentive if breakfast has already been served. The oldest 2 do have a couple of extra morning chores. They make sure the bathroom is back in shape, including kitty litter and sweeping around her litter box. Often, the kids are actually done before I'm done with breakfast. In that case, they each go to their "Think within yourself" spot, and do a brain gym we call strong sitting till I'm ready. I'll try to remember to explain that one a little later, too, but for now just know they are still, quiet, in one spot practicing some self control while thinking or praying. Blessing, because of the drugs she's been exposed to, has the most trouble with this part, but is getting better all the time, and poor impulse control just runs strong in her veins. I usually have her sit close to Faith, who just reminds her to sit back down every time she gets up, and that's usually enough to keep her on her spot.

Now, sounds great, doesn't it? And most mornings it really does go that well. Don't get some picture perfect idea in your head, though. This morning was one of those that just didn't go right. We still have those. I'm not even sure exactly how it went wrong this morning, but no one was strong sitting. In fact, 2 kids had oranges on the way out the door, 1 will eat at school, and I told the others we'd eat when we returned home. Blessing left with NO shoes on her feet, Charity was crying because she couldn't find her jacket, I was still in house shoes, and Hope was desperately trying to find a book she was suppose to return today. So, every morning is not that smooth... But most have been, and I'm proud of how every one is doing. Charity even helped Blessing put on her socks yesterday morning. For those of you who can't appreciate that, you should know that Charity has shown very little interest in helping anyone but herself unless she has a 2nd agenda. Blessing is neurologically challenged and socks give her the worst fits! Those seams, the feel on her feet, I'm not sure exactly what goes through her mind... but putting on socks is usually an ordeal and they must be pulled back of and put on again several times and there are often tears and throwing the socks across the room and kicking involved! ;) Which, by the way, is the beauty of the morning routine. I'm not fighting with her anymore. No socks and shoes? No breakfast. No emotion. No pleading. Just ignoring. And eventually, she gets them on herself and appears at her place to be served! And I congratulate, tell her how nice it is to see her this morning, and all is well! How 'bout them apples?

Reflection

2008-12-04T06:51:00.000-08:00

Wordless Wednesday just really deserves a few words. We'd been threatening to put up the Christmas decorations for several weeks, not caring that it was way too early by some folks' standards. I LOVE this time of year, and the kids were begging, but we were simply just too busy till the week of Thanksgiving. That was an emotional week, as we had a little drama concerning family gatherings and a new baby girl that just so happens to have skin slightly darker than ours. (It was extended family, you can rest assured all of our parents and siblings have been nothing but smitten by the new baby) It was really not at all worthy of a response from my husband and I, though we were "barred" from a few gatherings over the course of a year. It doesn't at all affect us directly other than those gatherings that have been tradition, but we aren't bothered by that. We are, however, completely disgusted with a still living idea among "Christians" that white and black people (though, I say again, she is not black, or at least, not just black) should not live or worship together. I new that it would not be a choice that other family members would make for themselves, but I really fully believed they couldn't possibly look at a baby in desperate need of a loving family and deny that based on color, or even believe that we shouldn't, as foster parents, care for her. Apparently, when they showed up at the door, I was supposed to take a look and say, "oh, wait, she's the wrong color, take her back." ( I actually did know that she was bi-racial before she came, but you get the idea).

Anyway, again I'm chasing rabbits, but it does help you understand my frame of mind that week. It made me sick (literally, I spent much of the week nauseous) to think of this little girl's future rejection and hurt because of some people's ignorance. I'd look in her little face and my heart would break. Oh, how Satan is so skilled at attacking those things that we just slightly question about ourselves, and then suddenly confidence in who we are... and whose we are, and the very things that make us beautiful become something we hate about ourselves. My husband and I fully anticipated rejection towards ourselves, but I suppose I did not process that rejection all the way down to the little one, and what she might one day feel. I also did not consider the affect it would have on our parents. I mean, I knew they would love and accept, so I didn't blink. I'm now realizing it affects their relationships with their siblings and their immediate families. I'm not as confident as I once was.

But I can tell you what I am... and that's fully in love. Oh, how wonderful it is to hold her, to feel her warm breath against my neck as I rock and sing. She's smiling at us now, recognizing our voices, and even turning to see her foster sisters playing. Our 3 a.m. feedings are special quiet times when I get to hear what she has to say... those sweet little coos and beautiful eyes that lock on mine.

And she's not the only huge blessing in our life. As I hung those stockings across the mantel, I got really tickled. I was laughing so hard as I was trying to get them all to fit up there. My husband was laughing at me, and saying, "What in the world are you laughing at?" "Look at these!", I said. "I can't even fit them all up here! We really have too many kids, we're gonna have to hang some on the wall!" And as I stood gazing across 8 stockings, suddenly my laughing became crying. Poor Hubby. He was looking at me like I was from outer space again. I know, so completely womanish and hormonal. But really, this year has been the wildest ride EVER. We've had a total of 8 kids, 4 of them brand new to our home this year. There have been ups like never before, and downs like never before. Some days have been so hard I wanted to quit. I mean, really quit. Somebody give me a gun. Or a rope. Some days have been so full of joy and hope and laughter and blessings that I thought my heart would burst. I'll save some specifics for the end of the year review, sure to come around New Year's Eve, but this year has just been like no other in my life. And the hugeness of it all... oh, so much bigger than myself.... just hit as I stood looking at all those stockings. First I couldn't stop laughing, then I couldn't stop crying, and I'm just so completely overwhelmed with how blessed we are, the gifts we've been given, that we've survived, and not just survived, but are living in this messed up world with the joy, love, grace, and favor of our Savior.

...A Savior whose birth I'm so excited about celebrating this season! We've got some fun things coming soon.... I'm taking the big girls to see the Nutcracker Saturday. We're having a big "Happy Birthday" party for Jesus with a couple of other families we're great friends with. All my kids will be in a Christmas pageant (actually, 2) this year. And we'll be filling a stocking for Jesus as well! So... what are you doing for Jesus's birthday this year?

Wordless Wednesday

2008-12-03T09:43:00.000-08:00

I Don't Wear Panty Hose

2008-12-02T10:41:00.000-08:00

Well, there was a funeral about 3 years ago....

But Grace is only 4, and I suppose she doesn't remember that one time. Grace needed to see the doctor, which I don't typically do very quickly with my born of the body babies. In fact, I have a reputation with my doctor. The born of the heart babies are rushed in for the simplest things. It's not favoritism, more like accountability. As a foster parent, I can't afford for something simple to become major, and be accused of not caring for them properly. My own children? Oh, they'll live. And that must really be in question if I'm taking one of them to see a doctor. Although I did recently take Hope for a wart the size of Mt. Rushmore even though I knew it wasn't life threatening. However, she had been hobbling for a few weeks because the thing was right smack in the middle of her tender little foot. My natural remedies seemed to only be encouraging more growth, so I gave in. I also took her in 3 weeks after swallowing a large metal ball when she set off a metal detector, too. I figured 3 weeks in was a little long. ;) Another post for another day....

Anyway, the real story is that Grace's throat looked horrible, and she had run fever for 3 days with no sign of improvement. So I hauled her with the rest of my crew to see Dr. S. Now Grace is used to seeing Dr. S, after all she delivered her and has cared for her since. Not only that, but between 6 kids, 2 newborns that needed often check-ups, and Grace thinks Dr. S is her best friend. We were only passing Dr. S. in the hall while she was working with SOMEONE ELSE when Grace started shouting her complaints. "My throat is sore, Dr. S., and my ears have cereal and boogers in them, and I have a ganglion cyst (which actually disappeared, but she still tells everyone she has one), and are YOU gonna take my throat out?" There was some laughing from doctor and nurses alike as I tried to shush her and explain she would get her time in a few minutes. I also told her that Dr. S. would not have to take her throat out, but the frog in there had to go, and if she didn't hush that I might ask her to take out the tongue as well. She replied that THAT was a "no good idea" because she needed her tongue to taste sucker she was sure to get as she left the office for being a good girl. Then she decided maybe it WAS a good idea after all because she couldn't taste broccoli or get in trouble for sticking her tongue out. And then I pulled my hair out because this kid can't stop talking!

Eventually Dr. S. stepped into our room and looked at Grace's throat and ears and the spot where the ganglion cyst used to be. She aims to please. ;) Then, she sat on her stool and began talking to me. I could see the inquisitive look on Grace's face, as she sat across the room from the Doctor, eyeing her legs. As the Doctor and I talked, she slowly, stealthily, creeped over beside the doctor. She then promptly sat down on the floor right beside her stool. I knew what she was about to do, but Dr. was still talking, and well, it's rude to interrupt. Sure enough Grace's hand slowly reached for Dr. S's leg. You see, she had on panty hose. Grace had quit looking at her leg, and was watching Dr. S's face intently as she carefully, slowly reached forward and touched her leg. Grace then proceeded to rub her little hand up and down Dr. S's calf, which I'm sure was silky smooth and a nice feel to this little 4 year old's mind. I honestly can't tell you Dr. S's initial response, I was too busy trying resist the uncontrollable urge to bust into a fit of laughter and keep my composure. Doctor did eventually look down at Grace, right about the time she quit innocently rubbing her leg, and proceeded to actually pinch the panty hose, pull them away from Dr. S's leg, and then let go. They snapped back into place, and Grace was delighted. "What ARE those?" she said, wide-eyed and full of wonder. Completely unaware she was being ever-so-inappropriate, and extremely excited about this new find, her eyes and face said it all. She would definitely need to ask Santa for a pair of those! I'm so thankful our doctor is also a mother herself. She was only amused and did not press any kind of charges for sexual harassment.

And sure enough, in the van on the way home, she piped up, "Mom, why don't you wear those nice things?" Because they wouldn't look right under my jeans, darling. Cleaning poopie diapers and mixing juice cups and refereeing fights over puzzle pieces just doesn't fit with panty hose wearing outfits. The time will come..... and then I"ll miss these days.

11 Years Ago

2008-11-21T06:50:00.000-08:00

I became a mother. I had been warned of how my little one would not look pretty right off. About how nasty babies are at birth, their faces flat, heads coned, red and just not very pretty. I was a teenager, excited about being "mom" but scared to death as well. Tons of family eagerly awaited her arrival outside my hospital room. I had spent 9 months crawling around on my hands and knees. I lost weight... something my 100 pound frame didn't tolerate very well. I honestly can't remember what weight I got down to, I think it was 90 pounds. I was so young and dumb that I thought I was pregnant, and just supposed to be sick, so I let it go day in and day out without holding a thing down. When I couldn't get myself out of the tub one day, my husband helped me out, literally dressed me and carried me down to the car. Upon arrival at the doctor's office, they promptly sent me over to the hospital and declared I couldn't leave until I was at an acceptable weight. Lovely, huh?

The day she was born all I could think was how amazingly beautiful she was. Those silly people who said newborns were less than pleasing to look at hadn't seen MY baby! She came into the world complaining about the competency of the nursing staff, demanding better service, and certain her parents couldn't be meant for her. After all, we were babies ourselves, how could we possibly give accurate care to a princess such has herself?

Not much has changed. ;) She's still opinionated and not much can be said to persuade her otherwise. She often instructs me on how the younger ones should be cared for, and I'm constantly reminding her that she made it this far without dying, that Dad and I are perfectly capable of caring for them, and might even know what's best! She was an amazing little girl, that I often took credit for. It wasn't until the 3rd or 4th child that I realized she was what she is in spite of me rather than because of me. That I really had very little to do with her incredible ability to discern, to choose her own path no matter what those around her are doing, to stand firm in her convictions, and care so deeply for those who are struggling. She's more grounded than even I give her credit for. She likes what she likes, hates what she doesn't, and there is very little gray. She's a rule follower, and has little tolerance for those who don't respect the rules or each other. She is mostly serious, but when she laughs that true, full, belly laugh, everyone around her does the same. She's witty, and her sense of humor is very different than our other children's. She's smart, oh so beautiful, already has a deep love for her Savior and a desire to share His love with others, and she is AMAZING with little toddlers and babies. Right now, she wants to work in hippotherapy when she grows up. She has ALWAYS loved horses, and children, and I think that would be an incredible opportunity for her to work with both. She has so much exposure to emotionally disturbed children, as well as those with developmental delays, and her care for them is far beyond her age. I'm not always sure that's a good thing, I want to make sure she's a little girl as long as she can be, but her talents and passions are becoming clearer and clearer with each passing year.

Though I certainly miss days of rocking, nursing, and singing to my sweet little angel, I look forward to sharing the rest of my life with her. I love this stage, too! She's not only my little girl, now, but we have "real" conversations, she's becoming less of me, and more of herself. And less of herself, and more of Jesus. Such an incredible life to be a part of! Happy Birthday, Faith.

Works for Me Wednesday

2008-11-19T11:48:00.000-08:00

Baby Must-Have(s):

Here is my favorite thing for my little one! I LOVE this sling. The picture is terrible.... that is true stay-at-home-mom form! The old, gray, ratty sweatshirt. Complete with spit up on he shoulder. I promise, I can don a sleek black top and look cute as a button with that same sling. Mercy has spent hours in it, it's very comfy for her, and I can hold and still have 2 free hands. LOVE IT! I have one of these, which I also love and strongly recommend for any parent, but I don't like it until baby is about 5 months old. Then, it's the absolute best way for wearing baby.

Here's another favorite. My other babies didn't have these, and I just love them for Mercy. Actually, my older kids like them, too. They usually wear them on their arms - you can check out the website to see all kinds of patterns and ways to wear them. For Mercy, I love that I can just put a onesie on her, these great babylegs, and change her diaper without the frustrating buttons or pulling on and off pants, and they keep her legs warm! ;) She isn't old enough yet, but I'm betting they don't slide off when crawling like other pants seem to do. And even the body suits aren't good for crawling because babies somehow end up pulling their knees and feet all the way up to where their belly should be! ;)

Just for Alyssa's Mom

2008-11-17T11:17:00.000-08:00

Dear Alyssa's Mom (cause I don't know what else to call you!),

You should know that you are a VERY special person. Because I have 2 rules. Never forward emails. And never play Tag. But since I crack you up, and that's like the bestest compliment ever, I'm gonna play! ;)

So, here are the rules:

Aw, heck, I'm not going to follow the rules, so, I might as well not post them!

Ok, ok, cut to the chase..... Seven things about me:

1. I have bungee jumped, sky coasted, been out of the country, served in our armed forces, broken real boards with karate kicks, and had babies with no drugs. However, I have never whistled. It's my thorn in the flesh. God wanted to keep me humble, so he gave me defected lips. HOURS of trying to no avail!

2. I LOVE the stickers from Sonic. You know, the one they stick to your cup with your receipt. I carefully peel it off so that I can play with it for hours.

3. I have an obsession with names. Yes, names. Like, I HAVE to know what the pregnant lady is naming her baby. I love to know everyone's middle names and why their parents picked the names they did. I still pick out names I like for little girls and boys though my baby naming days are over. Weird, huh?

4. I CAN'T STAND lotion between my toes. My skin crawls just typing it.

5. I've done a lot of things wrong, but this is what I got right: My husband, and the children that followed.

6. Every time I go out with my kids at least one woman says, "Don't you know what causes that?" (referring to the number of children with me). I LOVE to answer, "Yes, but it's TOO good to give up. Is your husband doing something wrong?"

7. Bad language really bugs me. Unless I'm the one using it.

Thanks for thinking of me, Alyssa's Mom. ;) I have enjoyed your blog and the encouragement when learning to live with my own RADical daughter.

He Fits Right In

2008-11-14T06:04:00.000-08:00

Toby, AKA the Tobster, AKA Tobs, AKA Toby Coke, our miniature schnauzer, disappeared while we were at camp. We left him in our fenced in back yard, at about 4:00 in the morning. When my sister came to check on him at about 10:00 that same morning, he wasn't there. He's always been Houdini. We gave him the wrong name.

My sister called the pound, walked the streets for the week we were gone. We did the same when we returned. My little girls shed lots of tears for our dear lost friend. I might have even shed one or two, and hard-hearted hubby searched for him more than anyone. We assumed after the second week we wouldn't see him again. Were certain after the third. Oh, the sad little faces!

I didn't really want another dog, but looking at those long faces I somehow found myself asking if they wanted to look into adopting one. My oldest announced, "Absolutely not, just another one to love too much and then cry over!". Oh, the teaching I need to do with that one. But, still, I understand. She kind of gets that from me, anyway.

A good friend of mine rescues dogs from the pound. She had been seeing a schnauzer there, for about a month. Yesterday, she chose him, and called me to see what caring for a Schnauzer was like. "Don't put him up on your site till I talk to TJ and see if maybe we want him." She said she thought he was a puppy, salt and pepper (which Toby really isn't), and she thought he was a lot smaller than Toby, too. She suggested driving by to show him to us. I think maybe she knows I'm a sucker for a puppy.

And so out from the van, jumps none other than TOBY!!! Can you believe it? I really wasn't convinced it was him at first. He doesn't answer his name. He doesn't act the same. Poor guy's been locked up in a concrete cage for a month. No sunshine. No walks. Little food. His hair is WAY overgrown, he's skinnier, and I think he's suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. Considering the nature of our family, I suppose he fits right in! :) PTSD?? Join the club. What's life without a little RAD? or ODD? or ADD? or PTSD? Heck, why not all of the above?

The girls' reactions? Not a chance I can put that into words. Some moments, are just priceless.

Not Me Monday

2008-11-09T15:36:00.001-08:00

This did NOT happen at my house!!!!!

And for the record, I was NOT too busy. The bat made it onto the windshield while my husband was driving, and I really didn't know until 2 days later, when I was INSIDE the van, going 60 mph. After that, I just forgot. I was NOT waiting on my husband to dispose of it. Because, that would indicate I expect him to do what I ask. I would NEVER do that. And I most certainly would NOT continue to see that bat staring at me every time I walked outside and just ignore it there. NOT ME!

And she even left out more of the gross things that she DIDN'T see! Faith killed a deer on the youth hunt a little over a week ago. Being her first, she was excited to say the least. Because the dear deer lacked any antlers for keepsakes, she and her Papa decided to cut off her hoof. Home to my house it came, in a little ziplock sandwich bag. I yelled, er, um, I mean instructed her to get that thing out of my house! And to take it out of the bag and hang it so it would dry out. She heard the "Get that out of my house!" part. Of course her ears turned off after the first sentence. My kids NEVER do that. They ALWAYS follow directions in their entirety.

Faith did not coming running INTO THE HOUSE, with that hoof, still in the bag, while my dear friend was here. There were NOT any bugs in there. No maggots, either. NOT IN MY HOUSE! NEVER! (You'd think my house was full of boys, rather than 6 girls!)

I am NOT gross! My carport is ALWAYS clean. Bat-free. Bird-poop free. Acorn free. And most importantly, Maggot free.

Also, I would NEVER post a Not-Me-Monday without following the rules. I would NEVER do it wrong. So now, I'll fix what I did NOT do. Stop by MckMomma's and check out her blog! She's got a new little miracle that you can join in the celebration for!