A place for everything..

My whole life I've been defined as the "carefree" one, or silly, goofy, not exactly irresponsible, but very aloof and fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants.  I've never been what you'd call "organized" or "tidy" and although I don't like a dirty house, I admit, the clutter is pretty crazy around here most of the time.  I prefer things to be temporary, fluid and without structure.  Very much the opposite of "a place for everything and everything in its place".  And for most of my life I've completely rejected other people's attempt at enslaving me to their way of "thinking".  

As and artist and a free-spirit I have my own sense of organization, in general, being organized to me means being able to see everything at once.  If Type A's are the card catalogue, I am every book on the shelf, or quite possibly the floor.  I can't do dressers, piling all the clothes on top of each other (folded or otherwise) is just silly, who can find anything?  My husband keeps trying to get me to use filing cabinets, but the idea of all those little tabs, and not actually being able to see all the papers just bothers me.  And how to decide where it goes?  Name? Date? Category? Serial number? I'd need a tab for every item and that just wouldn't be practical!  In keeping with my philosophy that the things around me should be fluid, able to move and non permanent, I'd call my sense fluidization vs. organization.

Having three kids does something to you though.  I find that we really just don't have room for everything to be out all the time, and different seasons do call for different things, clothes, decor, etc... And don't forget the kids are constantly bringing home papers from school.  Right now we have tons of the art projects tacked up in our hallway, lining it from one end to the other, like a child-finger-paint-doodle-mosaic-wallpaper.  Just the way I like it, seeing everything at the same time, and who am I to decide which masterpiece should be tossed to save another?

I find myself, and my mind, constantly at odds with my spirit, like somehow internally I'm being nudged in directions I'm not sure I want to go.  Every step of the way I realize I'm saying things like "hun, we need to find a home for this" or "yia yia, does this have a spot on your shelf?"  It all came to a head at Christmas.  The kids got all these new toys and clothes and it just wasn't going to work to have the clothes thrown in their dressers, and the toys in the toy bins.  I knew something had to change, and try as I might, this change was rushing in like waves in high tide, crashing with bolder smashing force.  How was I going to brace myself for this?  I was I going to keep my free-spirit intact with all this "need for change" swirling about?  

Well my husband, not exactly a Type A, but still much more "traditionally organized" than I am, and I started sorting through some things, and started putting old clothes, summer clothes, miscellaneous electronic items, less used toys, hand-me-down-clothes, and every other sort of thing in designated rubbermaid bins.  (I cringed as I realized I wouldn't be able to see through the bins and know exactly what was inside, but I decided to let it go and at least be thankful that all the things left out could be arranged however I desired.)  We don't have a garage, nor do we have extraordinarily large closets, so the task of finding the perfect home for these things was big.  I had to completely rearrange the girls' closet, moving a toy shelf over, trading spots with some hanging basket-thingys, and getting a second, lower hanging, bar for claudia to be able to hang her own clothes up.

All of this was going really well; I even enjoyed it a little.  In the girls room I was maintaining my organizational standard of "seeing everything at once" by how I arranged the closet and kept as much out of buckets and bins as possible.  Joe's room is similarly organized and so is the mud room and kitchen (albeit behind closed cabinets).  All of these small nudges and slight directions didn't seem to be taking me down too dark of a path to 'spirit doom' so I let my guard up a little bit and started to relax.  I didn't seem to be completely losing myself to this crazy process.  I was going to be alright, what was the worst that could happen?

As I slowly surrendered bit by bit and allowed the waves of "traditional organization" to crash on to my wild-spirit-home, they grew bigger and bigger culminating in one final tsunami that took my by surprise and for a minute I went under, and in that moment of chaos being tossed under those waves, something terrible happened.  I must have hit my head on the reef or something, but before I realized what was happening, in that moment when I was totally engulfed, I uttered words that are the harbinger of death for any free-spirited person such as I,

"hun, do we have a label-maker?"

GASP!  What did I just say?  Am I dreaming?  Did I actually just ASK for the tool of the enemy?  This instrument, when used properly, could spell doom (heh heh) for anyone trying to keep their unorthodox soul alive.  A tool long used to usher in a regime of rigid structure and permanency, "this item shall belong in exactly this spot, and only this spot, for eternity, or at least until you use fingernail polish remover to strip this label off"    

Fortunately as the waves subsided and I surfaced for air, I realized that being deprived of oxygen can make anyone say dangerous things, make deals with the Type A Devil, just to stay alive.  And fortunately (thank the gods of Wild and Free) the answer was "no", we do not have a label maker.  So for now, we have many rubbermaid bins, none of them clear, and all of them with contents soon to be forgotten and unknown.  Although a part of me is at odds with not knowing, another part, my renewed and secured fluidization, rejoices at the lack of structure, and looks forward to the day when, upon searching the contents of said bin, I get to dump its inventory on the floor and see everything at once.

Yosemite's Real Beauties

So I've told this story a few times, ok, more than just a few, quite a few.  I knew that I should blog about this at the time it happened, but of course I'm the Queen Procrastinator and, well, I just didn't.

But anyway, here it goes now, better late than never.

So back in August we took a family camping trip to Yosemite National Park.  There are about 50 stories I could tell about how beautiful, big, emotionally impressive and breath taking it was, but the most moving story is from our last night there.

The entire time, Claudia was really emotional, in a very good way, she was really intune with what was going on around us, the majesty of it all, and more often than I can recall she'd say something like "oh mom!  it's beautiful!  Jesus made this for us because He loves us right?!"  "yes, baby, He made all this, and made it beautiful, because He loves us."  awwwww.... yes, it really was sweet.

So the last night that we're there, we decide that we wanted to take the kids out of the forest where we were camping, and out to the meadow so they could see all the stars.  We'd brought our bikes, so we took turns, first I headed out with Claudia on my handle bars and in the pitch dark of the night, with the path illuminated with our little flashlights, we rode out of the forest into the starlit meadow and laid down to look up at the stars.

We're laying off the path, in this meadow in Yosemite Valley, cliffs with the Royal Arches on one side, and the forest and more cliffs on the other.  As we look up, you could see the whole universe.  Ok, well not really, but living in southern California, you maybe see 50 stars at night, and in the clear sky up there it was mind blowing how many stars there were.  Claudia was about to cry, again, and she says "momma look!  they're beautiful, and Jesus made them for us because He loves us so much, right?!"  "yes hun, He loves us that much."

We agree that it's not fair to leave Joe and Papa waiting, so we get back on the bike, turn on our flash lights, and head back into the dark forest to our camp.

Claudia briefly tells Darren how beautiful it was, and that she hopes they have fun too, then they take off and we sit down next to our campfire and she cozies up in my lap.

She starts to talk to me about how beautiful it all was, we look up and in the parting of the mass of trees above us, the small break in the canopy lets us see a few stars, just a fraction of what we saw a few minutes earlier, but probably still more than we ever see at home.  She keeps talking, and in a way that is very typical of her storytelling-reminiscing-memory-wandering, she starts to tell me how she missed me when she was still with Marisa, her birth mom.  Of course, she doesn't understand that she didn't actually miss me, that she didn't even know me, but because she's still young she doesn't necessarily 'remember' in chronological order.  I told her that I didn't know her yet and that's why she wasn't with me.  She started to get really sad, emotional at least, saying that she wished she just could have been in my tummy instead.  I had to explain to her that Jesus had a very unique plan for her, and that part of that was to be made inside Marisa's tummy, not mine.  And that Marisa would always have a very special part of her story, she'll always get to be her "tummy mommy", and my special part of her story is to get to be her "family mommy".  

She started to tell me a story about a time when she must have gone on a court appointed visit to see her birth mom.  At the end of the visit Marisa told her it was time to leave and Claudia had started crying saying she didn't want to go, Marisa told her that she had to, that she'd have to go back to Wendy (the temp fostermom at the time).  She was upset that they were taking her away.  Claudia turned and looked at me and said "and she didn't feel bad."  we try to help her to remember these sorts of things with as little negative subjectivity as possible so I said, "you mean she didn't cry?"  

"no, well, maybe on the inside, but I didn't see it"  

"hmmm"

"you would have cried, right mom?  if they were taking me away from you?"

"yes, Claudia, I would have cried if someone took you away."

"okay then"

She smiled, gave me a kiss and then turned back to look at the fire.  For a long time we just sat there, holding each other.  Her probably now thinking about stars, s'mores and bears and all the beautiful things we'd seen in the week we'd been there.  And me thinking about how she'd worked through a painful memory in her past, recognized that although Marisa loves her, something is definitely different about her and the kind of mom she is, and how she realized that although I didn't have her in my tummy, I would have cried if someone tried to take her, and that's the kind of mom she wants, a family mom, a real mom.  

Sound Off

Thanks to a friend's blog i'm following, i'm also posting a sound off post.  this is a fun way to see who all actually reads this and where you're all from!  post a comment with your name and location!

"See ya later"

ash

Theia Lynn

so monday, december 15th, was the day we signed the adoption paperwork for theia.  it was such a good feeling to change her name and have her no longer be a foster child.  

her name before was Cynthia Rose, which is actually a very cute name, something i'm sure any other girl would thank their parents for some day when they're older.  certainly not something she'd be teased about for any particular reason.  

when we adopted the other two kids, we didn't change their first names.  they're at the age where they're too old to change their names and assume they wouldn't notice, but they're also not old enough to understand the concept of being able to change it.  so the notion to them just seemed silly, like we'd be playing a game if we started calling them something else.  so their first names stayed the same, and we only changed the middle, and last of course.  

we'd decided  long ago when we were still trying to get pregnant that the kids middle names would all come from family, so naturally, we gave the kids those middle names, joe's is now Todd, and claudia's is now Jean.  initially in our fantasy plan, we were going to have 2 boys and a girl.  so although we have another boys name, we didn't have another girl name, so even though from the beginning we knew we'd change her name, for the longest time we didn't know to what.

as much as we both think that cynthia is a cute name, and i'm actually partial to names that have 'y's in them, darren and i are both very much against the name 'cindy' which all too often becomes the nick name for cynthias.  (and the birth mother does call her cindy, which proves my point)  so we knew from the beginning we wouldn't keep it cynthia.  even though yes, we could call her "thia" for short, we knew that inevitably she'd be asked "is that short for something?" and when she said "well, cynthia actually" she'd end up being called cynthia at times (and i know this from my own experience, no matter how many times i tell people to call me ash, they end up calling me ashley anyway once they find out that's what it 'actually' is, gah).  

i've had some people be kind of hard on me, saying that i shouldn't take that choice from her, "what if she wants to go by cynthia when she grows up?"  well what if i wanted to go by celeste?  it's not my name because that's not what my mom named me, and ultimately it was HER choice, that's just how it works!

changing the spelling to Theia was mostly my decision, darren would have preferred just thia.  i explained to him that i wanted to differentiate it from cynthia and thia as much as possible so it would remove as much of the "is that short for something..." as possible.  now she can just tell people it's greek for 'divine one/goddess'.  the same greek root word that we get theology from.

anyway.  in our quest to figure out a way to give her a family related middle name, we decided on my mom's middle name which is lynn.  of course there's a drama story about that and how my mom reacted, first when we weren't going to do it, and then how she acted like she couldn't care less when we did, but whatever, you'd have to know my mom.  *sigh*

but much to our relief and joy, as of monday december 15th, she's forever Theia Lynn Croteau, and yes, her initials are TLC ;)

it's her party...

we're in that wonderful stage of screaming for everything with theia.  it's been really rough, she's obviously not happy about something, or nothing, or maybe everything.  it's so hard to tell.  she's certainly always hungry, and then she's just had it with the car too.  nothing makes her scream like the car seat.  the minute she sees it she starts screaming.  i never know what to do, listen?, ignore it?, what?  we did take her binky away a couple weeks ago, so of course i'm sure that ties into all of this.  before when she'd get ticked in the car we'd just give her the binky and she'd be fine.  late night rides were almost certain to put her to sleep, but now with mr. b. gone, she just cries and hardly ever just cries herself to sleep.  

we've been playing jazz or blues in her room at night to help her get back to sleep when she does wake up and doesn't have the binky to help her.  it's been pretty effective, and now we mostly play jazz in the car, so when she is tired, it helps her to just lay her head down.  now i've got nothing against jazz and the blues, it's actually what i play mostly when i'm playing the drums, but listening to it constantly, well, i've heard about all the trumpets, trombones and brass i can handle.  

anyway, i'm sure that in time this too shall pass, but until then, i'll be hunting for my ear plugs.

my arms

i'm the kind of person that will hear a new 'favorite' song and will get addicted, listening to it over and over and over.  i'll put my iPod on repeat1 and just have it running through my brain all day as i go about all my business, sometimes not even really listening sometimes very fixated.  anyway, my latest addiction is In My Arms by Plumb and at first i have to say i was more in love with it just for the musical aspect and didn't even really know what the song was about, until the 50th time or so.  i sat down and really listened to the words and it was really amazing that it's a song she's singing to her child, and the message has made me love it even more.  a message that our childish fairy tale dreams may not come true, and how she's sad that there will be a time when her child realizes that for herself, and how we keep our kids safe in our arms.  it's the song play that should be playing first, and here's the lyrics so you can read them for yourself.

In My Arms

Your baby blues 

So full of wonder 

Your curley cues 

Your contageous smile 

And as i watch 

You start to grow up 

All I can do is hold you tight 

Knowing clouds will raise up 

Storms will race in 

But you will be safe in my arms 

Rains will pour down 

Waves will crash all around 

But you will be safe in my arms 

Story books full of fairy tales 

Kings and queens and the bluest skies 

My heart is torn just in knowing 

You'll someday see the truth from lies 

Knowing clouds will raise up 

Storms will race in 

But you will be safe in my arms 

Rains will pour down 

Waves will crash all around 

But you will be safe in my arms 

Castles they might crumble 

Dreams may not come true 

But you are never all alone 

Because I will always 

Always love you 

Clouds will raise up 

Storms will race in 

But you will be safe in my arms 

Rains will pour down 

Waves will crash all around 

But you will be safe in my arms

I only hope that it's true, that i really can keep my kids safe in my arms.  i'll try, for as long as they'll keep coming back to them.

the Murder of Ronald Opus

1994's Most Bizarre Suicide
Don Harper Mills

At the 1994 annual awards dinner given by the American Association for Forensic Sciences, AAFS President Don Harper Mills astounded his audience in San Diego with the legal complications of a bizarre death. Here is the story...

On March 23 the medical examiner viewed the body of Ronald Opus and concluded that he died from a gunshot wound of the head caused by a shotgun. Investigation to that point had revealed that the decedent had jumped from the top of a ten story building with the intent to commit suicide. (He left a note indicating his despondency.) As he passed the 9th floor on the way down, his life was interrupted by a shotgun blast through a window, killing him instantly. Neither the shooter nor the decedent was aware that a safety net had been erected at the 8th floor level to protect some window washers, and that the decedent would not have been able to complete his intent to commit suicide because of this...

Ordinarily a person who starts into motion the events with a suicide intent ultimately commits suicide even though the mechanism might be not what he intended. That he was shot on the way to certain death nine stories below probably would not change his mode of death from suicide to homicide, but the fact that his suicide intent would not have been achieved under any circumstance caused the medical examiner to feel that he had homicide on his hands...

Further investigation led to the discovery that the room on the 9th floor from whence the shotgun blast emanated was occupied by an elderly man and his wife. He was threatening her with the shotgun because of an interspousal spat and became so upset that he could not hold the shotgun straight. Therefore, when he pulled the trigger, he completely missed his wife, and the pellets went through the window, striking the decedent.

When one intends to kill subject A, but kills subject B in the attempt, one is guilty of the murder of subject B. The old man was confronted with this conclusion, but both he and his wife were adamant in stating that neither knew that the shotgun was loaded. It was the longtime habit of the old man to threaten his wife with an unloaded shotgun. He had no intent to murder her; therefore, the killing of the decedent appeared then to be accident. That is, the gun had been accidentally loaded...

But further investigation turned up a witness that their son was seen loading the shotgun approximately six weeks prior to the fatal accident. That investigation showed that the mother (the old lady) had cut off her son's financial support, and her son, knowing the propensity of his father to use the shotgun threateningly, loaded the gun with the expectation that the father would shoot his mother. The case now becomes one of murder on the part of the son for the death of Ronald Opus...

Further investigation revealed that the son became increasingly despondent over the failure of his attempt to get his mother murdered. This led him to jump off the ten story building on March 23, only to be killed by a shotgun blast through a 9th story window.

The medical examiner closed the case as a suicide.

safe spot

so of course as a mom i'm constantly faced with the reality that my kids are raising me.  every day there are moments when i realize that i have to completely reevaluate everything i thought i knew about what is right and wrong.  daily lessons about what grace means, what discipline really is, and what punishment should really look like.

lately i've been struggling with what to do when claudia's in trouble.  i'm talking mostly about how things go when i ask her a 'hard' question.  that means anything that is just hard for her to answer.  whether it be because she doesn't know the answer, or she'll have to admit that she did something wrong and might be in trouble for it, and therefore, inclined to lie.

having grown up with a very intimidating, often abusive step-mom, i learned certain habits that helped me to feel more secure when dealing with her 'hard questions'.  mostly it was to stay as far away when she was ticked so there'd be as little chance as possible that she could reach out and hit me.

in my dealings with claudia, i've found myself projecting my feelings of needing to 'feel safe' during our 'hard talks' .  so from my experience, distance=security, so i've made sure that i have claudia sit on her bed, and i sit in the chair on the other side of the room.  or i sit on the kitchen stool and have her stand on the other side of the kitchen.  to me, this seems like it completely makes sense and i perceive it as "hey, i'm all the way over here and you're way over there so you know i'm not going to swing at you when you say the wrong thing"

so of course i'm dumbfounded when claudia continues to lie and bawl and seem just miserable when we're talking.  i'm thinking 'sheesh, how much more safe do you need to feel?'

after a lot of thought and a lot of prayer i realized a bunch of things.  first, claudia and i don't have a history of me hitting her.  this might seem obvious and stupid, but i DO forget that that was the most important factor in my history.  since i don't do that to claudia, she's not worried it's going to happen.  she's not thinking "i'm glad she's too far away to reach me, that makes me feel better".  the idea of me hitting her is like thinking about whether aliens would prefer milk duds or malted milk balls, irrelevant.  i've come to realize that when i sit claudia on the other side of the room she's not seeing it as safety, she's seeing it as part of the punishment.  in her eyes, since it's not a safety issue, she sees it as pushing her away and "mommy's so mad she doesn't even want to be near me right now, does that mean she doesn't love me anymore?" 

when i'm asking her a hard question and i 'push her away', she's faced with 2 problems.  #1-how do i make sure mommy will still love me? #2-how do i answer the hard question that started it?  when faced with the possibility that answering #2 'wrong' or admitting she did something naughty might mean i don't love her, (which is obviously not a real possibility) she's thinking "say whatever you have to about #2 so that you can satisfy #1"

we had to have a sit down talk the other day about what's going on when she feels safe.  what things make her feel good, what am i doing when she knows i love her, etc.  my hope is that if i can create a very loving and safe environment for her when i'm asking her hard questions, she won't have to worry about losing my love, so she can focus on telling the truth and letting me help her fix whatever needs fixing.  overwhelmingly her response was that she feels loved and safe when i'm hugging and smooching her (clearly the opposite of putting her on the other side of the room)  of course i'm thinking to myself, "how on earth do i do that when she's just hit her sister in the eye with a barbie for the 19th time?!"

we decided that giving her that environment was still the right thing to do, even if she has done something really bad.  we now call it the 'safe spot'.  if we don't think to go there first she knows that as soon as we ask her something and she starts to feel scared, she can ask for the safe spot and we'll go sit down and hold her, rub her arms or whatever, give her some smooches and talk softly.  all of that affirmation lets her know that we love her no matter what, and we just need to know what happened.  

the first time we used the 'safe spot' she stood eye to eye with me while i sat on the stool, i rubbed her arms and just asked her to tell me the truth.  she stood there silent and teary eyed for a while and i asked her why she wasn't talking. 

'because i don't want to lie to you!' 

'then tell me the truth, we're in the safe spot now'

then she proceeded to tell me the truth completely and without crying.  it was amazing.  even though i had to tell her what she did was wrong and we needed to go fix it, we were able to do it together and with love since she never had to worry about the love part at all.  grace in the moment is really the only thing that lets us fix the problem without wounding her in the process.

it goes against everything in my nature to sit and be loving and smoochy on a little girl that just called her brother a "stupid poop head" but that's the grace we have to give her when we go to the safe spot to work these things out.  and as we sit there, i'm reminded that when we take our sins to Christ, He doesn't shake His head, point His finger, or grab our arm and scream 'how could you...?!!!  what were you thinking?  why did you do this to me?  didn't you know that was wrong?  is your brain broken, did it fall out?  how many times do i have to tell you no?  don't you ever listen to me?"  no, when we have the hard questions with Christ, He opens his loving arms and holds us, gives us grace in that moment and asks us just to tell the truth. and with His help we fix it, then we can move forward.

christians are often referred to as jars of clay, or earthen vessels, these pots God has made with His own hands which He pours His love and blessing into, that we in turn pour out onto others.  most of us have been damaged along the way, that's just part of our fallen nature, some of us are damaged more than others, but in the end, we're all cracked pots (yes, even crack pots)  as a broken vessel of God's love, i might not be able to hold as much as a 'less broken' one, and if i'm only able to hold and pour out one blessing, at least God's given me this grace to pour out on my kids.  if this is the only part of God's love i teach them, i'll be happy.  being handled with this grace and care, it'll mean in the end, that my kids grow to be less broken than i, and will be able to hold much more, and pour out much more than i could ever hope for.  and all that God has planned.

Do You Hear What I Hear? Um, No.

Well, it's with uncertainty and sadness that I post this. More emphasis on the uncertainty, but sad all the same.

If you've read any of my Life posts, you'll remember that when I was little (0-6) I had chronic ear infections that left me profoundly deaf in my right ear. The past few years as an adult have seen a resurgence of ear infections (I've always gotten them, but I'm getting an unusually high number as an adult). Usually ear infections are a childhood illness that goes away once the Eustachian tubes mature, thicken, and become more vertical. (The Eustachian tube also drains mucus from the middle ear. Upper airway infections or allergies can cause the Eustachian tube to become swollen, trapping bacteria and causing ear infections. Earaches are more common in children because the tube is more horizontal and thinner, making the movement of fluid more difficult.)

Anyway. The infections have gotten progressively worse. Over the past couple years I've been getting them in both ears (in contrast to usually only getting them on the right side), and they've been having a much larger affect on the "good one". For the past few weeks I've had them in both ears, and it's been really screwing with my hearing in my "good ear". Much like being underwater, or at least having water stuck in your ear. I'm at the end of a course of several antibiotics, and it's still really messed up, meaning I'm going to probably have to see a new specialist, yet again, and potentially have surgery (this would be #5). There is of course the possibility that s/he could fix the problem, and recover hearing in the 'bad ear', but there is also a chance that irreparable damage is being done, and I'll end up losing both.

Yeah, complete restoration, or profound deafness in both ears; those are the prospects. I'm not sure why I'm blogging about it now, since I don't actually have all my thoughts together on the subject, either way. I guess I'll have to do some thinking/soul searching and post a part II

All I know is that I don't want to have to start thinking about the last time I hear my husband tell me he loves me with his voice, or my kids, or the rest of my family. The last time I hear the sound of rain, or thunder, or the breeze through the leaves, or waves crashing, children laughing, my husband whispering 'goodnight' or the other multitude of sounds that touch my ears, and heart, daily.

Tortoise and the Hare Revisited

This is brilliant, and not mine. My friend Jack Ratana posted this and it inspired me, so I in turn am posting it for you (with a couple of punctuation/spelling corrections which are not noted). I'm not sure if he wrote this himself, but regardless, "Cheers, Jack".

Once upon a time a tortoise and a hare had an argument about who was faster .

They decided to settle the argument with a race. They agreed on a route and started off the race. The hare shot ahead and ran briskly for some time. Then seeing that he was far ahead of the tortoise, he thought he'd sit under a tree for some time and relax before continuing the race. He sat under the tree and soon fell asleep.

The tortoise plodding on overtook him and soon finished the race, emerging as the undisputed champ.

The hare woke up and realized that he'd lost the race.

The moral - "Slow and steady wins the race." This is the version of the story that we've all grown up with.

THE STORY DOESN'T END HERE

it continues as follows......

The hare was disappointed at losing the race and he did some soul-searching. He realized that he'd lost the race only because he had been overconfident, careless and lax. If he had not taken things for granted, there's no way the tortoise could have beaten him. So he challenged the tortoise to another race. The tortoise agreed. This time, the hare went all out and ran without stopping from start to finish. He won by several miles.

The moral - " Fast and consistent will always beat the slow and steady. It's good to be slow and steady; but it's better to be fast and reliable."

THE STORY DOESN'T END HERE

The tortoise did some thinking this time, and realized that there's no way it can beat the hare in a race the way it was currently formatted.

It thought for a while, and then challenged the hare to another race, but on a slightly different route. The hare agreed. They started off. In keeping with his self-made commitment to be consistently fast, the hare took off and ran at top speed until he came to a broad river. The finishing line was a couple of kilometers on the other side of the river.

The hare sat there wondering what to do. In the meantime the tortoise trundled along, got into the river, swam to the opposite bank, continued walking and finished the race.

The moral - "First identify your core competency and then change the
playing field to suit your core competency."

THE STORY STILL HASN'T ENDED

The hare and the tortoise, by this time, had become pretty good friends and they did some thinking together.

Both realized that the last race could have been run much better So they decided to do the last race again, but to run as a team this time.

They started off, and this time the hare carried the tortoise till the riverbank. There, the tortoise took over and swam across with the hare on his back. On the opposite bank, the hare again carried the tortoise and they reached the finishing line together. They both felt a greater sense of satisfaction than they'd felt earlier.

The moral - "It's good to be individually brilliant and to have strong core competencies; but unless you're able to work in a team and harness each other's core competencies, you'll always perform below par because there will always be situations at which you'll do poorly and someone else does well.

Teamwork is mainly about situational leadership, letting the person with the relevant core competency for a situation take leadership. Note that neither the hare nor the tortoise gave up after failures. The hare decided to work harder and put in more effort after his failure. The tortoise changed his strategy because he was already working as hard as he could." In life, when faced with failure, sometimes it is appropriate to work
harder and put in more effort.

Sometimes it is appropriate to change strategy and try something different.

And sometimes it is appropriate to do both.


The hare and the tortoise also learned another vital lesson. When we stop competing against a rival and instead start competing against the situation, we perform far better.

All Hallows Eve

So this past Halloween marked the first of the "Seconds" for our family. And by that I mean, up until now, all of the holidays, trips, events, and other annual occasions, had always been the first time we'd done them together as a family. We'd had Claudia and Joe on an over night stay just before their placement last year over Halloween, so this was the first annual event that we'd already done once before. It was really fantastic to think back over the past year and how far we've come, grown, learned and changed.

So this year, Claudia was a Princess (not a Disney one, just Princess Claudia for the evening) and Joe was a Cowboy. Darren had to order Joe's guns (cap guns) online since apparently it's not PC to sell any sort of toy resembling a gun anymore. How sad. And Theia was a monkey, it was so fitting, and when we picked out the outfit in the store and she tried it on, she instantly started laughing and jumping around so we knew it was the one for her. These are a just a couple photos of them from the beginning of the evening.




Claudia's hair was done in a French Braid, starting off center at the base of her skull, braiding up and around her head in a crown. (after all a woman's hair is her crown right?) She loved it, or I should say she loved when I was finished. About half way through she moans "AND WE'RE NOT EVEN DONE YET! SIGH!!" It was very funny, but she knew it would be worth it, and everyone who saw her that night ooohhh'd and ahhhh'd over her hair and reinforced that she'd made the right choice by suffering through the process. Here are a couple photos of the finished result.



Early in the evening we lost Joe, fortunately we did get him back, but for the most part that's how the evening was. He was off doing his Cowboy stuff and we just kinda let him be. Theia was a wreck pretty much all day. We'd been at church since 11 am and the event didn't start until 6 pm. She slept a couple times for about 30 minutes in her stroller, but as any mom of a 12 month old knows, that didn't help much. Needless to say, by 9 pm she was one pooped monkey! Here's a photo of her as she got too tired to fight being in the stroller.



All in all it was fantastic. The kids had a blast and no naps aside, it couldn't have gone much better.

Commited vs. Commited

It seems like just about everyday now we have something go on or happen that I think I should blog about. It's just so hard when I have about 15,976 other things to do to actually make my self sit down. So I figure that before 7 on a Sunday morning is about as good a time as any to do it. Of course, the baby just woke up so now this might be shorter than I thought. Ah, life.

First I'd like to tip my hat to Ashley and Mark Hustad. Reconnecting with her and our discussions about infertility, adoption, life and our journey toward motherhood and 'family' have been greatly motivating and I'm really thankful for her, even if we do talk significantly less now that they've been blessed with Little Man, through open adoption. (if I'm going to lose her to anyone, I'm glad it's a child!)

Secondly, I think all women suffer from mental illness. Some sort of delusional state pre-child and reactive emotional meltdown psychosis state post-child.

Let me explain. Most women, at least those who really do want children, usually find themselves believing that they love kids, oh they really do; after all, kids are sweet, fun, playful, some times a hand full, we all know about the "terrible two's" and such, but they really love them. And they want a child to love, so someday, maybe today, they want kids. You know, they want a child to love, and who loves them back.

They live in this delusion that some how being a mom means that 'you love a child'. And certainly "All You Need is Love", right? Won't that solve all your problems? Just loving the little ones, and occasionally waxing/shining their halos?

So the reality of motherhood as it pertains to children is far from them, therefore, they are delusional.

*i must say that I'm currently being squished by the baby as she's crawled over to me and is now smashing her face into my chest and rubbing it on me, like she's wiping the snot off her nose and using my chest to do it, fortunately however, she has no snot, this is just her interpretation of hugging, with her face.*

Perfect lead into the realities of motherhood. There is just no stinking way that LOVE is all you need. That's just a load of bull they tell you so that people will keep having kids. When it comes to the day-in day-out part of motherhood, love actually has very little to do with it. Sanity, has everything.

Ok, not just sanity, but safety, serenity, and simplicity as well, if we're sticking with S's for the silliness factor anyway. Life is fast, busy and fast, so for the most part, things need to run smoothly and efficiently in order for them to not collide and be "dashed into a million pieces of a broken machiney thingy".

I love my kids, and would love to do nothing but frolic, dance, sing and play all day, and give them every little thing their hearts desire. I want to love on them all the time, lay with them at night, walk hand-in-hand all day, and have a blissfully wonderful love-nest of a home. The reality is that of course, that will never teach them all they need to know about life, and of course I'd be setting them up for failure, and of course, I just can't be there every moment of the day, and of course eventually one's pursuit of happiness will conflict with anther's so I'd be forced to either pick one over the other, or pick neither, and most of the time as a mom (well, a mom with more than one child) you actually have to pick neither.

Motherhood is most accurately described like being a referee in an intramural roller derby. Everyone is racing around the track, trying to push the others out of the way, but technically we're all supposed to be moving as a pack, and in the end we're all on the same team anyway.

Kids are rough, life it tough, and it never goes completely smooth. Once the kids actually 'come home', it's school, church, speech, Dr's appointments, dentist appointments, one cold after another, infections, rejections, bumps, bruises, occasionally stitches, allergies, rashes, hurt feelings, feeling hurters, bullies, dirt, fingernails, woobies lost and found, and who can forget that these small people need to eat ALL THE TIME, and that they some how manage to wear every stinking piece of clothing that they have in a matter of 5-7 days?

LOVE certainly does NOT solve every problem you have, discernment, prayer, rationality, judiciousness, grace, mercy, and justice are what solve these problems. I know some will argue with me and say that there is love behind all of those things which I agree is true, after all God is love, and He is all of those things as well. The love I mean is that lighthearted honeymoon love that certainly is not even meant to last forever.

So that is what I mean when I say there is a sort of "reactive emotional meltdown psychosis state post-child". It's extremely hard emotionally when you have to act as a rational person despite irrational feelings. As a mom you cannot act out of emotion, you cannot discipline your children based on how they or their actions make you 'feel'. We all know that children act purely based on how they feel, and that is what makes them irrational beings that we have to continually teach how to behave despite how they feel (go to school even though you don't like it, let Aunt Letty squeeze your cheek for the umpteenth time out of respect, don't hit your brother even though, I agree, he is annoying when he won't stop telling you that your barbie needs a hair cut and he has the perfect idea 'Mohawk' and scissors to do it for you) We are constantly trying to teach our kids that the 'right thing' must be done no matter how you feel about it, yet so often we ourselves don't always do it when we don't feel like it. The psychosis sets in when you realize that to be a good parent you have to do the right thing when you don't feel like it, and you will probably go on not feeling like it. And you might start to question if you should just cook one of the children for dinner. My son will say "i don't love you anymore" and it breaks my heart and instead of saying "I still love you" I get upset and send him to his room. When I'm tired and sick I don't always want to cook dinner, read stories, do our bath time routine and all that, so all of those ideas of just 'loving on our kids' kinda goes out the window and it becomes more like becoming an indentured servant. (an indentured servant whose job is to referee the roller derby of all things.)

These kids put up the cost of Motherhood for us, and for the next 18+ years we have to be their slaves to pay it back.

Non of this is to say that being a mother hasn't been one of the most positive wonderful experiences of my life. This was only to say that it's very eye opening to actually be a mom and realize that you certianly don't always get what you want, but of course, if you try sometimes you just might find, you get what you need.


*disclaimer, we took in 2 boys, brothers 5 and 2 1/2 on Friday the 17th, as a respite for their foster mom who's taking a vacation. That said, I have a house of 5 children, all 5 and under, so my comments might be a little colored by lack of sleep, more dirty clothes, more mouths to feed, coughing children by night, screaming banshees by day. therefore, i may have to revise my comments next sunday when the boys have returned home and some of the derby players have left the track.

Capturing These Few Moments

We had a joint birthday party for the kids yesterday. I could say about a million things about how it was our first birthday party as the 'parents' and how it was the first party for the kids period. It was pretty amazing but I think for right now I'm going to let the photos speak for themselves. Enjoy.

Surprise!

So yesterday, September 18th was my birthday.

Our tradition the past few years has been to have an evening out, dinner, coffee and smooches. Darren likes to make sure that we actually go out on my birthday-DAY and not just wait till the weekend, so last night we headed out to eat dinner together to have our date. We're headed to drop off the kids with our friends who baby sit for us on date night, and as we walk in their house going to see the new puppy and settle in the kids, i turn to face 20 friends yelling "SURPRISE!".

Alright, so it's a Thursday night and i know 28 isn't usually a big deal, so of course there was no way to see this coming. The irony is that i've never had a surprise party before, maybe only 1 or 2 real parties before period. This one was complete with those whistle-blower things, candles and ice cream cake.

I actually couldn't believe how good darren was at keeping this from me. The joke of the night was that he's so good at hiding things from me, he could probably hide my own pregnancy from me if he wanted to keep it a surprise. (no i'm not actually pregnant)

So with the help of some really amazing friends, the fantastic night was topped off with a rad new iPod touch!!!

To everyone who came to the party brought cards and/or contributed to the iPod, i thank you and am really blessed to have you in my life!

love you guys!


P.S. the really funny subplot to the story is that Darren didn't tell the kids the truth either, knowing they couldn't have kept the secret. So since they're anticipating us leaving for our date, Claudia asks me an hour into the party "so mom, when are you guys going to leave?". We laughed, and I had to explain that the party had been a secret, and dinner was just a 'pretend story' that daddy told me/us to keep it. I think, despite the cake and fun, the kids were a little disappointed to not get their alone-fun time with Brad and Vera.

Theia the Conquerer

My little girl is standing all by herself, and as a proud momma it's my duty to tell the world! Enjoy!

My Life, Part III

*I acknowledge that this post is very over due and for those of you who only started reading this blog recently, you might want to go back and read parts I and II first.

Years 7-12

Alright, so at this point my parents (from this point as a general rule "my parents" refers to my dad and Marlee), moved us to Panama Nebraska. Population 200+ 15ish miles southeast of Lincoln.

They'd found this 100 year old house that was a real fixer-upper. It was a 5 bedroom 1 1/2 bath that actually had a lot of room. It was situated on 13 acres of land, and there were an additional 10+ acres that were connected to it and the owner had never put up a fence, so we pretty much had complete access to around 25 acres. (click here for my blog on the house.)

It ended up being a great opportunity for unique pets. My parents were pretty brave I guess when it came to the pet department. To be honest I have no idea where they came up with some of their ideas. I'm pretty sure we just started out with dogs, cats, a hamster or 2. It slowly grew to some rabbits. The cute lop eared kind. Some where along the line my parents got into some sort of deal where a sheep owner paid them to let 40 of his sheep pasture on our land. We'd have to give them food, which he bought, keep them from running away and all that, so it was like renting the land out I guess. It did spawn some really fantastic stories.

Sheep Story #1
"One night while having a massive slumber party in which 7 or 8 kids were sleeping in our club house, the sheep broke loose through a fence at around 3 am. As we all start chasing them down in our pjs in the night, my sister Jillian and I get the brilliant idea to ride them. Yeah, uh huh, that's going to be productive. It was a pretty bumpy ride trying to hold on to a fat wool ball."

Some how around the same time or maybe just a little later, my parents started buying goats. Lord only knows what for, they were bizarre animals to have when we weren't really trying to run a farm. We mostly had pygmy goats, you know, the kind you see at the petting zoo. We also had a couple Nubian goats, they're the ones that look like a cross between a goat, a rabbit and a llama. Long legs, long neck, long floppy bunny ears. They're the kind that are used for milking. The milking is another story, but we'll save that one for now.

When I was probably 12 I remember getting sent out in the middle of the night to check on annabelle (yeah, we even gave them hick-goat names). She was pregnant and it looked like she was about to pop. I spent pretty much the whole night out there helping her deliver her triplets. It was pretty wild to see. Boy they sure were cute though (after the slime was cleaned off)

So by this point I'm really not sure what the fascination with animals is. My step-mom just couldn't help herself when it came to buying these things, and if they couldn't buy them, they found some other way to get them. We'd had everything from ducks, chickens, a killer rooster, several dogs, cats, a pig, the rabbits, the sheep, and of course all those goats.

Sometime around when I must have been 10ish we got horses. I'm not really sure which came first, but we did own 2 ponies. A Paint, named Paint (yeah really creative) and a Welsh named Ginger. (Ginger was later bred with a horse and had Joker, a white foal with a black star in his forehead.) In a situation similar to the sheep, we boarded two horses for a guy for several years. Bascar and Fire. Bascar was a really light palomino and I don't recall what breed Fire was. He was a very deep chestnut/sorrel.

Anyway, so we had all these animals, life was interesting to say the least.

We lived in the Norris School District. It was a K-12 school about 9 miles away in the middle of a corn field that took students from the 9 surrounding towns. I started in 2nd grade and graduated from there as well.

The main points of significance in this time are;

A: By the time I was 11 the bone transplant I had received in my middle ear was now failing, quite badly too. I was down to basically a capacity to hear 15% of the frequencies that normal ears should hear. Which pretty much equates to profound deafness. I was scheduled for surgery again, this time it would be to implant some mechanical/bionic 'thingy' which would do the job of the bones. This surgery was not a success unfortunately. We were told that there was no reason for this to not work and at the advice of my specialist, the surgery was performed again the following year, but that time I remained awake during the operation so I could respond to the Dr while he was working inside my head. Yeah, pretty bizarre.

This time the surgery was a success, I came to in the recovery room and with my eyes closed listened to nurses shoes tapping on the floor, hearing it, once again, in stereo. A few minutes passed as I lay there listening to machines beeping, voices booming over intercoms and my own breathing. As I lay there I suddenly felt as if I was going underwater, sounds distorting, fading, becoming muffled, and then silencing completely. What had started out as a success fell quickly into failure as the scarred tissue couldn't continue to hold the mechanics in place. And I was left with nothing but some very expensive equipment to rattle around in my head. (okay, it didn't literally rattle, but it didn't work.)

This time I wouldn't agree to another surgery. Not until some time passed and significant advances were made in the technology that would be required to 'fix' me.

You may only have a 1 in 250,000 chance of dying on the table from the anesthesia alone, (this risk was higher back in the 80's when I was having surgeries) but this risk goes up everytime you have to go under, but other risks are having other complications such as blood pressure drops, irregular heart rhythms, heart attacks and strokes. I guess I'd like to have a better guarantee of success before I undergo surgery again.

Significant point B:
At the age of 12, after last surgery #4, I'd asked my dad if I could live with my mom. He said no, so we went to court.

I think that at different times in my life I have more or less to say about this whole deal, and unfortunately or not, I'm in a stage where I don't have much to say about it. But I will say this; We got the same judge that presided over our case 5-6 years prior when my dad moved out of town and joint custody was no longer possible. The judge ruled that there was no reason for me to leave my dad, that there was nothing circumstantial to make them believe I'd be better off with my mom, and my sister Aspen would not have been willing to go with me and therefore, the judge was not going to allow it because he would not split siblings up, even if one of them did want it. So I stayed.

And in my heart, even though I started it, I was glad I stayed.

What did come out of the deal was a lot more time with my mom, convenient or not (considering the distance), she got one night during the week in addition to her every other weekend.

I can't say I was completely happy with the way things turned out. In a matter of a year I had cost my family a tremendous amount of money; between costs of lawyer fees and the surgeries that seemed like a waste (my dad will say they were worth it, since if it had worked it would have been life changing.) And this became one more thing that Marlee would never let me live down. Although she found very interesting and abusive ways to make me pay for it.

Picture Perfect

There shouldn't be much I need to say about this. We love our kids and can't believe how blessed we are. There are days when I still feel lonely some how about not being able to 'make a baby' but when I look at the gorgeous smiles on these kids faces (and listen to Theia whistling like she was in this picture) all that goes away and I know I wouldn't trade these guys for 80 'made' babies.

Thanks to everyone who prayed, cried, dreamed and slaved with us to get these guys.

Nosce Te Ipsum

It's amazing how with very little effort, we can lose ourselves to the person we become when we're not looking. It's not true, you know, that practice makes perfect. No, no. Practice makes habit, only self assessment followed by correction and discipline makes perfect. Imperfect practice only makes for bad habits. And as for life, as we go about our days, giving a little here, a little there, small sacrifice of this for that, or of this for nothing more than the path of least resistance, we slowly become someone we don't want to be; even though we don't want to do so.

Ask anyone who's gained more weight than they'd like over a few years (more or less). Of course, they'll tell you that they don't want to be over weight. They "don't know how it happened" they'll say. Sure they do. They were not disciplined in their eating and/or exercise and therefore they gained weight. (with the obvious exception of persons with genetic/hormonal conditions). Not very many people set out to gain weight and become unhealthy. So in the process, it's not that they're necessarily making bad choices on purpose, but the path of least resistance does not usually include discipline and structure. We run out of time, resources, or energy and just do as little as possible to get by.

Whether it's weight, finances, lost contact with friends, unhappy employment, we lose a little of the person we want to be everyday if we do not battle the rut to keep it; to keep ourselves intact.

I say all of this not in judgment, but after my own self examination. For I have gained weight, lost interest in my old hobbies, have let friends slip away, and become someone I find quite boring and drab. There are so many things I 'wish' I could be. Things I want to do, to have, to be, to experience, to give. I do none of these things, not because I'm a jerk or selfish, but because I don't discipline myself to do so, and possibly because I'm a procrastinator.

I want to lose weight, why don't I? I want to ride my bike 3-4 times a week, why don't I? I want to run 5k's several times a year and possibly a half marathon, why don't I? (on that one I can say that the reason I don't do so today is because of knee injuries and I'm just so dang heavy, bringing me back to wanting/needing to lose weight). I want to paint more, read more, walk more, play more, smile more, care less, worry less, fear less and experience more of life than I do.

The only thing that keeps me from living the life I want is me. I have learned that nothing will do itself, I must do it. The main obstacle I face is Time, having too little or too much, it doesn't matter if you can't manage it. I find that most of the things I want to do, I could accomplish if I would just go to bed and get up earlier. Tiredness is a lame excuse but the oldest one in the book for a reason, it plagues us all and has been around forever. However, All of the things I dream will only ever be dreams if I refuse to get out of bed. My kids will always need me, my husband will always need something, my back will always hurt, the dishes will always need done, the laundry, the lizard, the groceries, the rugs, none of this is going to magically disappear. I can do anything and live the life I want; and I can do it now, but it will only ever come at the cost of sleep and will always be inconvenient.

How to Make a Family Part V

As we pull forward, slowly gaining momentum, rushing right side up again, we speed into our Adoption Homestudy.

Now up until this point we'd thought that our Foster Care Homestudy was pretty intense, but we were about to find out that there is no such thing as "privacy" when it comes to adoption. They want to know everything about you, what you like, what you don't like, do you like travel, reading, religion, science, cooking, cultural experiences, festivals, trade shows, politics, talk radio, if you're into art, if you like music, if listening to music while you look at art makes you think about that one time when you were 3 and your mom called you inside for lunch but you fell and scraped your knee and cried and the neighbor kids laughed at you and it made you so embarrassed that you yelled at your mom and promised you'd never cry again as long as you lived, never, never, never?

Yeah, it's pretty crazy. They wanted to know how your parents disciplined you, how you felt about it when they did, if you wanted to be like them, if not, how you get along with them now, about what they taught you about God, love, sex, dreams, jobs, grass, foot stools, toad stools, bowel stools. Heck, they wanted to know everything about everything that has anything or nothing to do with anything or nothing you might ever think about or not think about and if you don't think about it why don't you?, and if you think about what it's like to not think about it does it make you want to think about it? or try it? or eat it? or smell it? or steal it? or give it away? or just cry? And if you do cry about it or not, how does that make you feel?

Are you getting the point yet? It's insanely intense for no other reason (that I can surmise) than to put you through a psychological wringer to find out if you'll still be sane once you're done.

The reality is that they do ask about your childhood, if it was happy, if you're happy now, etc. They want to know if you're screwed up because of how your parents raised you, if not, if you're screwed up because of something else instead, and if you're parents did do a bad job, if you'll be able to do better. What characteristics you have versus your husband/spouse, how you work together, how you feel about each other, how you feel about your feelings for each other, how your relationship is to your family, their family, whether or not your family will be accepting of an adopted child. Yes, they DID ask about our sex life, if we're 'conservative', passionate, prude, deviant, what we're going to teach our kids about homosexuality, if we're going to promote abstinence, and all that. How your previous relationships were, if they were healthy, if not why?

I think they may have even asked our favorite color in all of that mess.

So, at this point we're starting to feel like "Man I hope these kids are worth it!". Of course, they are. But you do start to wonder why some average Joe and Jane who don't even know each other can go out and screw each other one night after leaving the bar drunk and make a baby and have a child, but we've got to get naked and jump through fiery hoops of barbwire in front of the world while juggling our hearts riding a unicycle blindfolded to adopt one.

We did finish the homestudy, but of course now can't look our adoptions' worker in the eye without turning red. (ok, not really, she is pretty awesome) The hearing in August was to update the court that we'd finished our homestudy and were still going to adopt. We were assigned an attorney and after completing the paperwork, had a signing date set.

During this time, the birth dad had gone into default regarding Theia, which means he's forever the alleged dad, but would never have rights since he never came forward (making her adoption easier for us in the long run) and the birth mom had one visit with her in April that she showed for. On July 24th, the termination hearing came, and rights were terminated. At that time the birth mom was granted a 'good bye' visit which she did schedule and attend. It was nice to see her one last time and get to see her again (at least I got a few more questions answered, and I know Theia will never remember it and it didn't have any negative impact on her to be there, so I wasn't concerned for her. And, no, I did not take the other kids.)

The birth mom's attorney did put in an appeal this time, so due to how long it takes just to get things done, even though it's actually almost legally impossible to remove Theia at this point*, it will still take the courts about 8 months to a year to deny the appeal, get it back down here, schedule everything and get her adopted as well. Fortunately, a homestudy is good for 2 years, so we won't have to get naked and jump through hoops again any time soon. ;-)

*She's been with us for over 6 months, by the time this gets anywhere it will have been over a year. Her birth mother doesn't visit, isn't participating in any kind of reunification plan, has had other children removed (Claudia and Joe) and we have adopted Theia's siblings, and no court is going to rule to reunify a child if it means separation from siblings (let alone the only parents she's ever actually known) that have already been bonded with.

So moving forward, the adoption signing for Claudia and Joe was set for September 8th, 2008 (yesterday as of this posting). What it means legally is that they are no longer foster children, their names are legally changed (claudia's school secretary was gracious enough to have me fill out all of her registration forms with her new name considering it was only 3 days into the school year, making our lives happy, and her job easier!) We technically answer to no one, they do have one visit with a social worker, but we no longer have to answer to our FFA (foster family agency) We have one last visit with our adoptions worker, from our adoption agency, filling out some final forms, but other than that, we wait for the court hearing, which should be scheduled soon to take place at the end of October, and after that day, when the judge awakens our new lives with the sound of his falling gavel, they'll be ours forever.

So although our ride is not exactly complete, at this point it feels like we're finally through most of the loops with just the few little hills at the bottom of the track, as we prepare to coast back into the station.

How to Make a Family Part IV

So as we spiral forward into Christmas, moving, New Year's and Life, things got really crazy really fast, and there was definitely no getting off the ride at this point.

Claudia and Joe hadn't seen their mom for a couple months or more, and then it had only been once in the several months prior to that. Once the baby arrived and the birth mom no longer had to be in hiding, she did request visits. Theia came December 6th, and the soonest one could be arranged and scheduled was for December 18th-ish. She came to that visit, saw all 3 kids for an hour or so, then had another one that Friday the 22nd. Asked if she'd be allowed to bring presents the following week, if we'd still meet on Monday considering it was Christmas Eve, blah blah blah. The visit was interesting, she seemed more like an aunt or cousin to the kids, there was certainly some connection and she seemed involved enough with the kids, but it never seemed like what you'd expect from a 'mother'. That "I'd Fight Off Bears for You" sense of love. She was supposed to visit Christmas eve, but never showed and never saw Claudia and Joe again. Never.

During this time an investigational Social Worker was working through the case and birth mother's history to write a report as to what she thought should happen with the baby, i.e. immediately reunify (give baby right back) reunification services, no services, file to terminate, etc... All of that was going to be presented at the trial which was to take place at the end of January. Needless to say, not visiting again didn't bode well for her.

Christmas was amazing. My parents, and sister were great and sent presents and goodies for the kids, and the magnitude of all the stuff they got between us, them and all the social workers, and agency affiliated 'Santa's Closet' type stuff, was so over whelming that it certainly made up for 3 and 4 years worth of worthless Christmases.

Theia was growing fast, and we were trying to adjust to life with a baby, which much to my embarrassment was WAY harder than I thought it was going to be (10 years of being a nanny/child care provider/licensed-home-Child-Care-owner went right out the window!) Mommy Brain at 3 am is not just a funny term but literally debilitating.

Anyway. Christmas and New Year's came and went and we waited for Theia's trial. The end of January came and birth mom didn't even appear in court. As is required if the parent isn't present, the judge automatically rules according to the recommendation of the social worker, which in this case after no visits, no contact and complete lack of cooperation, was to file to terminate rights and offer no reunification services. (She would have been able to go out and do counseling, rehab, anger management, etc. on her own and it would have showed intent to change, which if she could have proven it, would have been relevant at the actual termination hearing set to take place May 27th-ish, but clearly that was not going to happen.) So they filed to terminate her rights, and again we'd wait. This time until the end of May (the mandatory 120 days from filing until the hearing can be held.)

The following month, February of 2008, brought the end of the 120 day wait on the rights termination filing for Claudia and Joe. At the hearing, in light of all that the mother was not doing, and the dad had agreed, rights were terminated and the kids were freed for adoption. The parents technically had 60 days to appeal this decision (the same way a person sentenced to the death penalty gets to appeal, it might be approved or denied) but they didn't appeal. This meant that we were going to be assigned an adoption agency, would be starting our adoption homestudy, and would be getting ready to adopt the kids by/around the end of the summer/early fall.

During this new time of waiting (yes, there is a lot of clock watching, calendar flipping, and nail biting that goes on quite a bit during this whole process) the social worker that did all the investigation stuff, does not continue with a case after trial, it's not her job to follow up. The case is transferred to one of two types of workers, a Continuing worker (if the plan is to reunite) or an Adoptions worker if rights are to be terminated. Since normal parents show up to trial, they learn right then that their rights are to be terminated. But because birth mom and birth dad didn't show (FYI birth dad denies he's the father even now although it's extremely unlikely to be anyone else), the social workers are required to go through several means of communication to notify them (clearly they need to know this is going to happen to be given a chance to do something about it.) I've never been told exactly who, but somebody dropped the ball and didn't notify mom properly (she never kept a working number, doesn't have a permanent address and has no stable relatives) so anyway. There is a hearing half way through the waiting period on the termination (this one fell in mid/late April), where the sole purpose is to make sure that the notification was done properly, and they discovered that it was not, so they had to start that whole process over, filing for termination over again, and resetting the clock on the 120 days. UGH.

So off we go into a upward spiral again, getting thrown for a loop for sure watching stuff fly out of our pockets as we come to a slowing point while upside down. At this point, stomachs in our throats, we're all about to puke, at the very least, we have all our blood rushing to our heads making thinking extremely difficult.

Back on the Radar

Alright, so I know I've been totally off the map for a while, but I guarantee you, I'm back. Okay, at least for now.

Anyway, the latest 'quick' updates.

Claudia started her Preppie Kindergarten class, which is a two year Kindergarten program designed to give the kids with late birthdays (her the cut off for K is not until December 2, which is very late! and she's an October baby) So this way, they're out of the preschool class full of 3 year olds, but still working on fine motor skills, letters, numbers etc... and social development, second year is major academic stress that this year gets them ready for. (There are a lot of words they have to be able to sight read, they have to be able to write several sentences unaided and a lot of other things that these particular kids just might not realistically be able to do this year.)

Joe's back in preschool as of today and he had a great first day. Especially considering he has some major speech delays in the area of pronounciation and his teacher is Vietnamese and has pronounciation issues of her own! Don't get me wrong, she's Very nice and super sweet so I'm sure he'll do great in her class. He is supposed to be starting speech therapy (YAAA!) and we're just waiting for the speech therapist to set up his scheduled time.

Theia is growing like a weed, and as of now DEMANDS that she get to eat at the table with us during EVERY SINGLE MEAL. It's really interesting, but it's like she knows that something really cool is going on and she wants to be a part of it. That and she's really crusing along the furniture so I'm sure it won't be long before she starts letting go! (not sure if it's WHOO HOO or OOOH NOO! yet) She's also getting all FOUR of her top teeth at once which feels wonderful I'm sure, but at least she's doing it all in one shot. She also says Papa and Mama discriminately which is amazingly heartwarming!

Last but not least, yesterday, September 8th, 2008 we did the adoption signing for Claudia and Joe! YAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!

Obviously we're really excited and it's been a huge whirlwind of emotions (that i'll have to blog about later) and it's been great, they know their new names (only middle and last changed, but still) So although we're going to have to wait longer than anticipated and hoped for on Theia, we're really excited to introduce you all to the new

Claudia Jean Croteau, and João Todd Croteau!

For those of you who don't know or remember João is pronounced ZHU-wau (Portuguese where the J is pronounced like the soft Zs of Zsa Zsa Gabor) and our last name Croteau (nice ancient French province) is cruh-TOE (like chateau). Yes, we do realize that Joe now has a Portuguese name, an Irish name, and a French name and is a Mexican kid. He's cultured already!

Thanks for checking in, we'll see you next time!

How to Make a Family Part III

Zooming down the hill and rounding the next turn at break-neck-speed...

It's the end of October, our certification was being wrapped up we got a call about a potential placement. At first they told us Boy 4, Girl 3 living in an Emergency Shelter Home (ESH) for 60 days (typical ESH placement should not exceed 30 days) they'd been in an extended family member's home for 10 months prior to that. We asked for more info and the placement worker called. Correct information was Girl 4, Boy 3, pregnant bio-mom, therefore, potential placement of infant to follow. They were still in the reunification process but they were looking for a family open to adoption as a back up plan since the bio-mom was pretty flaky and the bio-dad was faltering. We were pretty shocked, we knew that day would come but to actually get a call was still a strange feeling. We said we wanted to move forward and a meeting was set up.

The meeting was scheduled for a couple days later (Darren and I couldn't stop thinking about them the whole time and constantly felt like we were in a dream) The kids bounced into the Burger King meeting and Darren and I both suffered a bad case of Love at First Sight. Claudia was Little Miss Chatter Box from the first minute and Joe sat right down with Darren and was really interested in what he was doing. I sat down with the ESH mom and Mark to talk about the kids and what their lives were like, they'd been in the system for almost a year and what that had meant for them. At this point she also let us know that the bio-mom had actually already had the baby but was in hiding. Darren bought the kids some food and sat with them just talking, playing and watching them.

The ESH mom told me about how the kids treated each other. She said Joe was a real piece of work that would have raging tantrums 20 times a day that would last way to long and he'd be inconsolable, he was mean to other kids, wasn't potty trained (he'd just turned 3) how she wasn't going to even try potty training him since she just 'knew' he'd regress once he moved again. She went on about how they fought and hurt each other, hurt other kids, broke toys, pulled hair, cried, how Joe was insanely possessive of Claudia, never letting anyone else touch her or play with her and was pretty much always naughty and basically just went on and on about all these negative things about them. I guess God gave me some rose colored glasses for the moment because when I looked at them all I saw were beautiful babies that really needed love, and had a tremendous potential for love. They sat with Darren in the booth chatting and playing with the BK toys for over an hour (yes, they SAT).

We left feeling like we had an amazing opportunity to love these kids for a while and that we'd love them as much and as hard as we could for as long as we had them. Even if it was only for 6 months.

We asked to have an over night with the kids so we could spend more time with them and they could spend more time with us. Halloween was just around the corner, it was on a Wednesday that year, and I had already taken the day off to help Darren with the event we host at church. We got the kids Tuesday night, had them Wednesday and took them back Thursday morning (remember neither of us worked Thursday mornings). From the first minute in our house we were completely confused. Where was the crazed tantrum boy who always wanted to hurt his sister? Where was the fighting? Where was the complete lack of social ability in both of them? From the beginning they flourished in our house. I don't think it's because Darren and I are amazing miracle workers, it probably had more to do with the fact that they got one on one with us and the ESH mom was a single mom, very obese with a day care, her other foster kids, some kids she'd adopted and a house that was so cluttered with junk that social workers feel compelled to include that point in their reports about her house.

It was so hard to take them back. After a couple days of amazing fun and loving them already it was painful to have to take them back to that Burger King and leave them with that ESH mom. They seemed so sad as well.

I'd been working as a nanny, so when we got the green light and we accepted the kids I gave my 2 week notice. My boss was ticked but that's a whole other story.

We decided to take the kids when my 2 weeks was over since we didn't have any other way to take care of them during the day. After the first couple days we broke down, called the social workers and begged to have the kids come ASAP. We wrapped everything up and got them November 6th, 6 days after our certification went through. We juggled the kids between us while I finished out my job. Mostly they went with Darren to work (God bless our church for being so understanding and looking the other way while Darren got absolutely no work done in that time).

As my job ended and I started my life as a stay at home mom. With in a week of the kids arrival we received some court documents stating that the kids' parent's rights were being terminated and we were being asked to adopt them. At this point we were like 'what the heck? what happened to Mark's statement of 'eventually but not likely'?"

We agreed and started working with the social workers on the adoption process. Most of it would have to wait until the hearing actually occurred, which was scheduled for February. During this time Darren and I started talking about moving. We were living in a 2 bedroom home and although the kids were allowed to share a room, once Claudia turned 5 they wouldn't be able to anymore. That gave us a year, but we didn't want to paint ourselves into a corner by waiting too long. So we decided to move, actually finding a 3 bedroom place in our same complex. 2 weeks after the kids came, we put in our notice to move, 2 weeks later, (a month to the day since the kids arrived) we got the call that the baby had been located and removed from her mother and we were being asked to take her. It was December 6th.

I happened to talk to a girl friend who's son was a couple days from turning 1, so she still had her infant carrier, but had already bought her forward facing carseat. She came over with a ton of baby necessities and we got ready for baby. She came that evening and everyone was awestruck. She was beautiful, Claudia showed her her new bed, Joe kissed her head and we all gathered around as Daddy got to be the first to feed her.

We were about to move, Christmas was coming, we suddenly have 3 kids and our lives careening forward so fast, spinning upwards as the first loop sends us all upside down, but in that moment when you're falling you feel weightless and just enjoy the ride.

How to Make a Family Part II

The first dip in the track, building speed heading through our first spiral loop and Darren's forgotten his Dramamine.

Ok, so Darren and I had talked about kids before we got married. We knew we wanted some, 3, 4, maybe 5. We were both a little older when we got married, had been married before and in general just weren't idiots when we got married, so although we didn't want to have a baby immediately, we didn't want to wait forever either.

We knew coming into it that I had some sub-fertility issues. We decided that we would not do anything to prevent, since pregnancy would be unlikely to happen without help, and if it did, woo-hoo-surprise! We'd decided that if we were not pregnant after a year we'd pursue testing, which would include Darren as well. At least that way it wouldn't be years of work/tests/procedures on me to find out in the end it was him too.

It only took one test to find out that it was very much Darren as well. A couple more tests made it pretty conclusive that between the two of us it was more likely that we'd grow wings and fly than we'd make a baby, well at least naturally. We'd be great ICSI Invitro candidates, where they actually put the sperm in the egg, then put them in. Of course you're still running the risk that the embryo doesn't implant and all that. So when we weighed the costs, all the costs-emotional, time, financial etc.- we decided it wasn't what we were prepared to pursue.

Of course it was extremely hard. We cried, prayed and had a lot of talking to do. We had to completely reevaluate what a "family" really is and what having a 'family' really meant to us. I guess all I can say is that we went through all the options, keep trying, get fertility help, invitro, adopting from other countries, domestically, doing a Fos/Adopt (adopting a foster child with no chance they'll be reunited because their parent's right have already been terminated) and doing foster care as a family open to adoption. In the end money, of course, because a big determining factor.

We considered Invitro, but since we live in the 3rd most expensive housing market in the entire United States, we can hardly afford to buy a house let alone spend $30,000 on an 'attempt' to "make a baby"; and our desire to "make" a baby was heavily out weighed by the fact that we were not willing to let the costs of the process and potential failure rule/ruin our lives.

As genetics became less and less important we tried to figure out what really was important. What about the baby's time in utero? What about labor and delivery? What about infancy, sleepless nights, diapers, and everything else relating to a newborn? It seemed like every choice eliminated so much from the experience.

One by one we eliminated possibilities and eventually came to the conclusion that no matter where they'd been, how they got to us, how old they were, ethnic back ground, God makes families and some how it would work and He wouldn't give us what we couldn't handle.

We were at Fishfest (same christian festival we got engaged at, but 3 years later) when we walked by a booth for a Foster Family Agency, called Advantage. We talked for a while to the owner/director Mark and his wife Pam. All about what they do, how they/their agency works hard to reunify families and what it's like to be a foster parent. We filled out a questionnaire and within a week or so they'd sent us some more information.

After a lot of prayer and a lot more talking we decided that we really felt like God was leading us to become foster parents. We knew the risks, we knew that most of these kids don't stay forever and we knew it was going to be gut wrenching and painful to fall in love with these kids and have them go 'home' after a while. Our conclusion was that life is full of risks, I married Darren not knowing if he'd live another 50 years or not, and if he died 6 months, 6 years or 60 years after we'd married, no matter what, it would be worth it. No one is ever promised forever with their kids, ours was just going to be nearly the opposite, just short of being promised our kids would not stay forever.

We started our training with Advantage. It was great that at the time Darren and I both had work schedules that gave us Thursday mornings off, so it was then that Mark came to our home to do our trainings, all the regular required stuff to be a foster parents. Mark talked a lot about how Advantage as and agency really believes in working with the Bio-Parent to help them as much as possible to be reunified. They believe that the first goal should be to heal the family and avoid broken homes. He'd said that any family who does foster care long enough will eventually have an opportunity to adopt, but that it's not the norm for their agency and it should not be expected with in the first few years. The training went pretty fast (going through the county can take longer than 6 months just to do training, ours was about 6 weeks). (Towards the end we had to fill out a form stating what ethnicity/issues/ages we'd accept and with only a couple of exceptions regarding reasons for removal we were pretty open, any ethnicity, we'd prefer an infant but were open to zero-4 years and open to siblings). We'd started training in the beginning of September and finished in mid October. We handed in all our paper work, had our final walk through and were certified as foster parents on October 31, 2007.

At this point we're becoming slightly aware of the fact that there is another hill coming and our roller coaster car is charging forward.