undying love

I woke up this morning and, like usual, stumbled through making coffee and checked my Facebook like a good junkie.  i have quite a few friends from all over the world and will regularly see posts about issues that i, unfortunately, know nothing and have heard nothing about.  whether it's a bus bombing or lack of shoes or water, there are always some new posts about some injustice around the globe that i should feel something about, and sadly, rarely actually do.  yes, those kids in africa are there, they just seem so far away.  of course i know they are real, yes i know they're hungry, yes i know they're dying.  but africa is a little beyond my reach and it just seems to be what it is.  and so i sip my coffee and shake my head, "that's a shame..." and i move on.


this morning i had a story in my status feed that i couldn't just shake off, just a shared photo actually.  but as we all know "a photo's worth a thousand words".    

yes, you saw that right, an abandoned baby in a trash can. *  


although this photo was taken in india, where this is horrifically common, i have seen many news stories of girls/women doing this here in america.  at the prom, at work, in motels.  


my first thought as my stomach turned was 'what the hell?'.  followed by 'people need to know this really happens, they need to see this and feel something too!'  initially i reposted this to Facebook out of the sheer "see this people?? this shit really happens!  this is what this really looks like, not just the faces of the 'confused teenagers' you see when they run the story on the news! THIS is what baby abandonment really looks like!"  as i posted it i even had a comment saying "'no child left behind' needs to be taken into a new direction".  as i read comments on the originating post i saw mostly huge amounts of bashing surrounded the controversy of posting this on a social site and most of the comments were that this is "disgusting" and "my 3 year old almost saw this!" and "what about that baby's dignity??, they don't deserve to have their picture shown like this!".


for the sake of my unsuspecting Facebook friends i took the post on my page down.  not because i don't think they should see this, i think they should, but only for the sake of their potential three year olds who may be playing farmville.  


however, that being said, yes this is disgusting, yes it is horrible, and yes that baby deserves more dignity that having their photo spread around social sites.  HOWEVER, that baby deserved a blanket, a cradle, a home, a family and his MOTHER'S ARMS!!  this baby did not get the life s/he deserved, whether s/he was stillborn or murdered postpartum, either way, they deserved way more than this metal can full of rubbish.  


as i was in labor with sam i had my sister joyously shouting at me "i can see his hair! oh my gosh ash he has hair! i can see him!" and i kept pushing, knowing i was about to hold my baby and see his hair for myself.  at the point where i'd delivered his head i looked down and saw his hair, and was overwhelmed with love just seeing him part way out.  delivering the rest of him and taking him into my arms i was by far the most emotional moment of my life.  i'm pretty sure on the recording all you hear for a while is "oh my god, my baby, i have a baby!" and i continue to babble semi-coherently about how much i love him and he's mine.  he was early so still fuzzy with lanugo hair, and i couldn't stop touching him.  counting his fingers and toes, kissing his face and head.  loving and bonding and whispering promises of undying love.  that is what this baby deserved.  his mother holding him, stroking his dark hair, kissing those fingers, caressing every inch and tenderly cleaning and swaddling him.  like every newborn this baby deserved undying love.  and i'm just judgmental enough to say i hope this mother gets what she deserves.  if karma started in india let's hope it's most effectual there.








*(for those of you about to argue about photoshop, all i can say is, so what if it is?  i'd love to hope this photo wasn't real but that does NOT mean this doesn't happen, that does NOT mean this isn't at the very least an accurate representation of what it does look like.  so that being said, we're going to assume for the sake of argument that this is real and move on.)

all star dreams

i wanted children much the same way as 10 year old boys want to be in the NBA or NFL.  it was my dream, a fantasy, something for which to yearn and make imaginary plans; it was not something that was ever going to become real because not all of us are built for such things.  sure i had the right parts, just like most boys have arms and legs, but that doesn't mean they worked the way they would need to in order to make a baby. 

someone in my position has two choices; acceptance or misery.  i chose acceptance, i was not going to have kids.  i lived my life with hope, of course.  whether it was a scare with a boy friend or years of trying with a husband, it never happened but there was always that little hope.  (although, no, i wouldn't have necessarily been thrilled about having a baby with any of the boyfriends for purely circumstantial reasons)  after years of negative tests despite hopes and scares, my brain just accepted that my reproductive system was offline and wasn't operational.  pretty much like the poor kid who just isn't coordinated enough to even offer a decent free-throw shot.

believe me it came as quite a shock when i found out i was pregnant in november of 2010.  it didn't seem possible, like some cosmic joke.  years of preventing, trying, preventing again, trying again, giving up and forgetting the dream all weighed heavy.  i'd moved on, adopted 3 amazing kids and accepted my life.  seeing that little pink line reminded me that i did in fact not only have the right 'parts' but that some how all systems had miraculously come online.  ready or not a baby is coming.

initially- shock.  secondly- panic.  at the time i was separated from my husband and had just started living with our 3 children in a women's shelter for victims of domestic violence. the reality was that i had been having an affair and hadn't even had sex with my husband in over 4 months.  narrowed down the paternity but certainly didn't eliminate any concerns.

i can't describe the feelings.  possibly like being drafted to the NBA but only being able to play if you drown 3 kittens before every game.  and if you don't play, the kittens will die anyway.  as a near-miss abortion myself, and for other reasons, aborting the baby was not an option.  period.  i was going to have a baby regardless of how bad everything else might get.  while part of me was excited for all the reasons being pregnant and the anticipation of having a baby naturally are, part of me knew when game time came, the kitties were gonna die.  i wasn't going to be able to avoid direct questions about the affair, about being a single mom and now having a baby, about who-what-when, and of course "don't you know what condoms are for???".  i was still married, my partner was married, there were kids on both sides, and "don't you know this makes jesus cry??".

first 12 weeks we told very few people.  we knew no one would have a legitimate reason to be happy for us.  and quite frankly, i knew that some possible responses would be something to the effect of "maybe you'll miscarry and this will all go away" or more brutally "hopefully it dies".  also with the high potential of miscarriage i didn't want to hear "it's probably for the best".  i wanted to be excited.  i WAS excited.  and it was easier to stay excited with my partner if we avoided a bunch of negative comments, after all, there'd be plenty later.

relatively speaking it was a healthy pregnancy.  i was fortunate enough to start out at a very healthy weight for myself and although i gained more weight than i'd have liked while pregnant, it all ended up in a healthy range for both me and the baby.  along the way we drew a lot more supporters than i ever thought possible.  most notably my dad.  his first comments were that he was really happy for me that i got to experience this and when i mentioned the timing being really bad all he had to say was "the timing is always bad, but could always be worse".  and he was right. my sister's were all very supportive.  it was really easy for them to focus on the baby and not so much the situation.  my mom, however, was waiting with 3 kittens and a rain barrel.

"i'm not even going to pretend to be happy for you"

well, at least she was honest.  she wasn't happy, not by a long shot.  i drew a lot of criticism from a lot of different places and continued to draw support from the most unlikely.  my kids were told when i was 17 weeks after an ultrasound established conclusively that i was pregnant, and with a baby NOT a jelly fish, and that he was in fact a boy.  again, thunderous applause from the audience, ex husband waiting with a rain barrel and the kittens.  unfortunately he has fostered an unhealthy relationship with our son (6 at the time) that made him feel compelled to run and tell him immediately.  it felt like it was raining cats for a while.

primary task was focusing on the positive and staying healthy, moving into an apartment with my three kids and continuing to work.  the night before 37 weeks i went into labor and, although it was not without its own drama, we got through it and had the baby. june 23, 2011 1:27 am.  6 lbs 4 oz, 19.5"

"labor and delivery" is a story for another blog, so i won't go into it here, but as for bringing home baby, we made it to the playoffs.  and for now, i think i may have filled my quota of kittens.  the nay-sayers are fewer and far between.  it's easier for people to focus on a baby and the miracle of life than to see the positive in a pregnant woman in my situation.  sure it helps that the baby is more cute than a field of frolicking kittens as well. 

i love the baby just as i love my other kids.  sure as an adoptive mom who's now had a biological child things are different but i believe it's in all good ways.  i don't love my older children less, but rather more.  their brother brings out newness in them and strengthens their relationships to each other and to me.  every night our round of kisses and hugs is never complete if they don't share it with him as well.  and although we're even more unorthodox than before, we are just as much a family.  maybe we should adopt a kitten to celebrate.

this is probably gonna hurt

i'm cursed with a brain of science and a heart of romance.  in any given situation i'll mentally break down all the possible scenarios and pick apart all the variables to logically deduce the best plan.  however, the heart wants what the heart wants and all too often i move forward with the most idiotic plans.  the most unfortunate part is that i dont proceed all blissfully ignorant of the cliff up ahead.  no, my brain has made sure to calculate down to the milimeter exactly how much distance and time i have till i meet my doom as my little heart's dream comes crashing down around me when plans fail.  any yet, fully aware, i fly forward and over the cliffs.  i suppose this is why i walked with ice block feet down the aisle and i got married.  twice.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

if there is anything i've done right as a mom it has been that i've quite completely granted Claudia the freedom and confidence to talk to me about absolutely anything and everything.  we don't get solo time often, but when we do she opens her mouth and like an Indian Snake Charmer she circular breathes and does not stop talking until she's exhausted every word she has to say.  

Just the other night her topics included, but were not limited to~ First, how our belly buttons don't match.  it would appear the mine is less 'foldy' than hers and more of an innie.  Second, how my butt is bigger than hers, but hers is bigger than theia's. Third-how slavery was really 'not nice' and she hopes that doesn't ever happen to her. (i made sure to tell her that slavery wasn't only limited to this country or to black people, but that over the ages at different times people made slaves out of just about anyone they could catch or buy) Forth she wanted to know if she really had to get married when she grows up.  she has decided she really doesn't want to be alone, but she doesn't want to fight with someone and end up breaking up.  i told her that most people do fight, but it's how you fix it once you do that makes or breaks a couple.  she then went on to hold up two toys, a barbie and a shark and said "mom, wouldn't it be so weird if they got married?" i laughed and said, "yes hun, but just wait and see, somedays it will feel like that!"

i've always tried to make it clear to her that she can tell me anything, even if what she has to say is that she's mad at me or doesn't like something i've done, as long as she says it respectfully and doesn't just throw a fit at me.  still, it always comes as a surprise when she does.  she'll start out saying, without the slightest hint of irony, "mom, i don't want to hurt your feelings or anything, but you've been crabby" or "i'm not sure if i should say this but i think you have a pimple mom".  it just cracks me up that she's actually learning to be honest but in a way that doesn't totally come across as snotty or bad-attitude.  

she's beautiful inside and out and i'm glad to see in such a short time that at least in one area, the love and effort is paying off, and she's learning how to think independently and truly learning how to be herself.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Alright, so by now I'm sure you've all heard that the Croteau family is indeed moving, to an enchanted land, far far away.

Ok, so not so enchanted, but certainly far away. We'll be moving to a small town just outside of Lincoln, NE, called Holland. (you see, if I'd said we were moving to Holland half of you would have said "The Netherlands?!" which would be cool, but is not the case)

I've gotten a lot of questions about "why?!", "why so sudden?", "what about the subzero whether?", and so on and so forth. So hopefully I can be explain and answer at least some of those questions now.

Why? First off, I do believe that this is a God thing. He's opening the door for us to do this right now when it wasn't open before. No we don't have all the answers and no we don't always know exactly why things happen when/why they do, but right now we do believe this is the best thing for our family.

Why Nebraska? Well of course it's because of the beef and corn.

Actually, I grew up there, and all of my family is there, I have 3 sisters, Aspen, Kate, and Jillian, of which two, Aspen and Jillian, have 4 and 5 kids (well #5 is on the way) and their kids just "happen" to be nearly the exact same ages as mine. My younger sister, Kate, and I are very close as well. My dad, his wife, and her kids live there, and I'm extremely close to my dad, and my mom and her husband live there as well and I'm getting closer and closer to them as I get older. (my dad always had custody so I didn't live with my mom and our relationship is a work in progress, she has been married to my stepdad for over 20 years and I am pretty close to him too)

This is just my immediate family, I have cousins, grandparents, aunts, uncles, the family friends we grew up thinking were family they spent so much time with us as well. And we have one of those families that is all about getting together, having traditions, holidays, birthdays, and just being a part of each others lives.

We know that family isn't everything, after all, God calls people pack up and move away as missionaries all the time, but anyone will tell you that even if family isn't everything, it sure is a lot. And with all the changes to our family in the past year and a half, right now we can use all the extra family support we can get.

Keep in mind that Darren grew up in the Boston Mass area and all of his family is still on the east coast, so we have zero family here.

Why so sudden? Well it's not really that sudden. Darren and I have talked for years about the possibility of moving there always knowing that although you can raise great kids in SoCal, we wanted a different life for ours if possible. One with yards and free roaming neighborhoods and in general the safety to be a little more carefree. And of course we wanted family to be a part of that. The timing has totally just been a God thing. There have been a lot of things that have let Darren and I know that it was time for change, and we were actually fighting it for a while. With Darren developing ulcers and needing to make changes in his work life, and knowing we needed to make changes that will benefit the whole family, we feel that this is where God is leading us, at least for now.

Another key to Nebraska is definitely the cost of living and quality of life. Yes, you're surrounded by grasslands, prairie and agriculture, (all of which are beautiful in their own right) but out here you've got what? apartment complexes? building after building after building? and statistically one of the worst air qualities in the nation? Yes, the weather is great, yes there is the beach, but city to city, there is nothing here that isn't there. It's just that this time of year you wear a parka to go out instead of tee shirts. Weather isn't everything and I personally miss having it snow a few times a year, I miss thunder and lighting storms, I miss rains and floods and not so much heat and humidity, but collectively all of it, it's always different and it always changes, so at least you appreciate the good way more in light of the not-so-good.

So we're going to buy some sweaters and parkas and get ready for what Nebraska has to offer.

We don't know what we're going to 'do' once we get there, but hopefully God will continue to reveal His awesome plan and we're going to enjoy ever mile of this adventure even if we have no idea where we're headed.

On a personal note, please don't think for a minute that it's not with a great degree of sadness that we move. Darren has spent nearly half of his life here, all as an adult. He has lived, worked and played here, made friends, met coworkers, and had friends that have become a second family to him. He's had a life and planned his future around being here, and it's not an easy thing to give up. The choice he's making now is the same choice I made years ago when I chose to move here and say goodbye to everything and everyone I knew. It's going to be hard, family or not there will be days when he is a nostalgic sort of lonely for this place and for the life he leaves behind. Claudia has already cried about leaving her friends. It's not without cost to her and Joe that we leave. She was born here and this is all she's ever known. She had chaos in her life until she came to our home and the past year and a half has been rock hard stable and the most consistency she's ever known so it is completely rocking her world to feel like she's being uprooted. But it is with all the Pros in mind that we make this choice knowing it's what's best for her and for all of us. Honestly, Joe is a little less concerned, but he's a boy and younger so that's normal. Theia won't know the difference.

And personally, I've also lived here for the past 4 years, and San Diego for 3 years as well and going back does symbolize closing the book on the California chapter of my life. (And for my carefree spirit, the idea of permanently settling down and not living in a tree house somewhere is really difficult to accept.) I have made friends, formed a new life, started new traditions and will miss it all terribly.

I will certainly keep posting our adventures as they happen. Small town living does provide some fantastic and very unique opportunities for kids and I'm excited to see what living so fully in the midst of nature and wilderness does for their spirits, I know what it did for mine. For example see my childhood home, and read my kids' reaction, it's pretty telling that this might be just the adventure they need. So yes, I'm excited. Excited to see if they learn to be wild and free, tree climbers, frog catchers, rock turners, cloud gazers, storm chasers, and more than anything, excited to see them learn hands on and eyes wide open what nature and the world is all about.

Some day they'll grow up, and maybe one day their kids will ask them what they once asked me, "You lived in the Park?!" and they'll also get to say "Yes, I guess I did live in the park." Every kid deserves the park, and I'm so glad to be giving one to my kids.

Alodi

Well last night at about 8:30 we got a call. This was a call we'd trained for, prepared our home and hearts for, waited for, and we're still not exactly prepared for.

The director of our Foster Family Agency called to ask us if we could take an emergency foster placement, just for the night. A 14 year old girl needed a place to stay for the night since there had been allegations of abuse in her current foster home and all of the kids were being immediately removed. It was too late in the evening for them to take her to Orangewood, the county group home and obviously the social worker can't just take her home.

Our experience with foster care and the whole system has been so smooth and relatively 'non-foster-care-feeling' that we almost forgot that sometimes this is what it's like to be a foster parent. Some times you get calls like this in the night, a boy or girl, infant/toddler/child/teen needs a place to stay, some place warm, some place safe, a place like yours.

After juggling our kids around, we set up Joe's bed for her, changed the sheets and bedding so she didn't have to sleep with Lightning McQueen and Batman blankets and then I set up toiletries in the second bathroom for her.

We didn't interact with her much since it was late when she came, and she got picked up for school at 7:30am. It was such a short time it really didn't affect our lives a whole lot actually, but when it was time for her to leave she hesitated a bit. When Darren and I talked about it later, we talked about how it seemed like she wanted to run away when she first came, and it almost looked like she didn't want to leave by morning. Whether or not either of our observations were correct, we did our part.

When asked to do something like this, not very many people would say "Sure! Bring your emotionally distraught teen with an anxiety disorder over for the night" But that's what makes foster parents different from other people. We're not better or anything, but we've opened up our lives and homes to these kids who really need it. In the middle of the night, even if only for one night, we were there for her when no one else was.

And in the end, that is what being a foster parent is all about.

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.  

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.

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.

retrospect

over the past few years i've thought, and i'm sure like most people, had some of those "what will be the significance of that relationship later on in life?" moments when i think about my relationship with brian. i'm sure God has a lot more reasons than i can think of, but one i'm sure of is getting to meet his parents, steve and linda. To date, they remain one of the most positive influences on my life. linda rebuked me when i needed it (which was a lot at the time) they were encouraging, supportive and very full of grace and love. they are really amazing people and were there for me in times when my own parents weren't and in ways my parents were never equipped to be. i'm always going to be thankful to for that.

i'm not so sure brian walked away with similar "i'm so thankful despite..." memories, but i'm sure God has a purpose.

i remember sitting with his brother matt and his wife alyssa one night in their basement and she made a comment about how they were all really shocked when brian and i started dating, that they never would have pictured him with someone like me, not that they didn't like me, but that the relationship was a big shocker. and that when they first met me they all assumed brian was trying to set me up with his roommate pat. in retrospect i suppose that should have told me a lot about how unmatched b and i are/were, but at the time i thought it was more of an 'opposites attract' thing.

again, in hind sight, i think brian and i shouldn't have dated in the first place, we'd have made much better friends. after we broke up we hung out as friends for a while and it just seemed to make so much more sense; of course those 'post breakup' friendships can't really last. and unfortunately i feel the worst part about breaking up is that it essentially ended my relationship with his parents as well. i'm not sure any wife would be thrilled to have her husband's ex-girl friend still close to her mother/father-in-law.