Not Quite the After

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

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

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

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

The System

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

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?