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.
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Tools
one of my sisters called today and her first words were, "i have news!" to which i immediately responded emphatically, "you're pregnant?!"... "yes, how'd you know?!!!" i'm not sure how, but i always know. i'm ecstatic for her and i know that she's going to be the most fantastic mom of SIX ever. yes, this is child numero seis, her oldest will turn 8 in June!
she went on to say she should have called me first since she got mediocre at best replies from everyone else she told so far. not that they're not happy for her but that they all had an air of "don't you know what causes that?" or "uh, where are you going to put them all?" sort of attitudes.
i'm extremely analytical and can process out exactly why i think she's going to do a fantastic job with 6, 8 or 15 kids, where ever they end up, based on what i call the simple principle of 'tool acquisition'. i shared with her a bit and gave her a little of my perspective, for fun, i thought i'd share it with you as well.
parenthood can most easily be described as a job. plain and simple, it is work, constant work, to be a parent. like any job there are tools required. if i walk into my stepdad's wood shop i see all sorts of tools for wood working and carpentry. saws, sanders, screwdrivers, hammers, wrenches and a whole other assortment of tools with really specific purposes for which i don't know the names or meanings since it is not my area of expertise. if you asked my stepdad if he had all those tools from the beginning he'd of course say no. it takes years and years to acquire all the tools he has. he started out tinkering and doing what he could with what he had and as he committed himself to it he acquired more tools so he could do it better, more efficiently and in the end get much more exceptional results from his work. mind you, wood working isn't even his job, but "just a hobby".
an even clearer example would be a mechanic. walk into any auto-mechanic's shop and you'll see a million job specific tools hanging and laying everywhere. i can speak from experience when i say hardly any of those are necessary to change oil in a car, or a tire, or a head light. but if you want to do anything beyond the 'idiot's guide' you're going to have to man up and get some real tools, and educate yourself on how to use them. you can't learn any of it in a day, and in general you can't possibly afford to buy every tool for the first day of class.
as a parent you take on a new job. let's just say everyone starts out with a hammer, most basic of all tools. we all start out loving our kids and if love is a hammer, it's extremely useful and can be used for quite a few do-it-yourself projects when it comes to kids. beyond that you'll need a screwdriver (after all every parent has moments where they feel like they have a few loose screws!) the screwdriver is your logic. between Love and Logic, your Hammer and Screwdriver, you're equipped with the 2 most basic parenting tools, although they are basic they are also completely essential. if you're going to tackle the harder problems, deal with tantrums, illness, attitudes and injuries, you're going to need more than just a hammer and a screwdriver though. after all, you're not just building a bird house, you're trying to raise an individual which will reach adulthood with a firm set of their own tools which will hopefully be honesty, intelligence, compassion, integrity, honor and perseverance to name a few. essentially a tool box with at least a hammer, screwdriver (philips and flat head) few wrenches of their own, maybe some allen wrenches and depending on their experience and interest some awls or carving tools.
so as you continue to parent these kids, finding harder challenges and more complicated tasks, like my stepdad in his acquisition of wood working tools, you're going to have to find better and more specific tools for the job. you cant just pound love into your kids with your hammer everyday and hope to teach them every thing. at a certain point you're going to want to do the work more easily, efficiently and of course, with much better results. depending on whatever metaphor works for you, you're going to end up with a whole tool shed full of the specific tools it requires to raise your particular kids. you may even have a few different sorts. after all, i have one ultra defiant child, and one more emotionally needy and compliant one. they are absolutely not the same job!
if you'd asked me when i was 20 if i was equipped to do the job i have now, of course i'd have wished i was but would have had to admit that i wasn't even close. i had to go through difficult relationships, working through childhood wound-issues, finding out about infertility, dealing with a struggle deciding to adopt, then working toward becoming a foster parent. if you'd asked back then if i'd be able to sit through a visit with a bio-parent who's lost their child due to extremely poor choices and look at them without judgement, of course i'd have said no.(although even then i'd have known to keep my mouth shut at least). going through some of the hardest parts of life was what it took for me to acquire the tools to deal with my emotions, my losses and my miraculous gains. i'm not sure i ever could have imagined that it would turn out this way, that my particular parenting job would be like this. for me it's as if i set out to be a mechanic and ended up building rocket ships. this is far beyond what i could have hoped for myself and to all those who say "it takes a special person to do what you do" i say no, no one starts out with everything they need for the job, sometimes you have to go out and find it.
she went on to say she should have called me first since she got mediocre at best replies from everyone else she told so far. not that they're not happy for her but that they all had an air of "don't you know what causes that?" or "uh, where are you going to put them all?" sort of attitudes.
i'm extremely analytical and can process out exactly why i think she's going to do a fantastic job with 6, 8 or 15 kids, where ever they end up, based on what i call the simple principle of 'tool acquisition'. i shared with her a bit and gave her a little of my perspective, for fun, i thought i'd share it with you as well.
parenthood can most easily be described as a job. plain and simple, it is work, constant work, to be a parent. like any job there are tools required. if i walk into my stepdad's wood shop i see all sorts of tools for wood working and carpentry. saws, sanders, screwdrivers, hammers, wrenches and a whole other assortment of tools with really specific purposes for which i don't know the names or meanings since it is not my area of expertise. if you asked my stepdad if he had all those tools from the beginning he'd of course say no. it takes years and years to acquire all the tools he has. he started out tinkering and doing what he could with what he had and as he committed himself to it he acquired more tools so he could do it better, more efficiently and in the end get much more exceptional results from his work. mind you, wood working isn't even his job, but "just a hobby".
an even clearer example would be a mechanic. walk into any auto-mechanic's shop and you'll see a million job specific tools hanging and laying everywhere. i can speak from experience when i say hardly any of those are necessary to change oil in a car, or a tire, or a head light. but if you want to do anything beyond the 'idiot's guide' you're going to have to man up and get some real tools, and educate yourself on how to use them. you can't learn any of it in a day, and in general you can't possibly afford to buy every tool for the first day of class.
as a parent you take on a new job. let's just say everyone starts out with a hammer, most basic of all tools. we all start out loving our kids and if love is a hammer, it's extremely useful and can be used for quite a few do-it-yourself projects when it comes to kids. beyond that you'll need a screwdriver (after all every parent has moments where they feel like they have a few loose screws!) the screwdriver is your logic. between Love and Logic, your Hammer and Screwdriver, you're equipped with the 2 most basic parenting tools, although they are basic they are also completely essential. if you're going to tackle the harder problems, deal with tantrums, illness, attitudes and injuries, you're going to need more than just a hammer and a screwdriver though. after all, you're not just building a bird house, you're trying to raise an individual which will reach adulthood with a firm set of their own tools which will hopefully be honesty, intelligence, compassion, integrity, honor and perseverance to name a few. essentially a tool box with at least a hammer, screwdriver (philips and flat head) few wrenches of their own, maybe some allen wrenches and depending on their experience and interest some awls or carving tools.
so as you continue to parent these kids, finding harder challenges and more complicated tasks, like my stepdad in his acquisition of wood working tools, you're going to have to find better and more specific tools for the job. you cant just pound love into your kids with your hammer everyday and hope to teach them every thing. at a certain point you're going to want to do the work more easily, efficiently and of course, with much better results. depending on whatever metaphor works for you, you're going to end up with a whole tool shed full of the specific tools it requires to raise your particular kids. you may even have a few different sorts. after all, i have one ultra defiant child, and one more emotionally needy and compliant one. they are absolutely not the same job!
if you'd asked me when i was 20 if i was equipped to do the job i have now, of course i'd have wished i was but would have had to admit that i wasn't even close. i had to go through difficult relationships, working through childhood wound-issues, finding out about infertility, dealing with a struggle deciding to adopt, then working toward becoming a foster parent. if you'd asked back then if i'd be able to sit through a visit with a bio-parent who's lost their child due to extremely poor choices and look at them without judgement, of course i'd have said no.(although even then i'd have known to keep my mouth shut at least). going through some of the hardest parts of life was what it took for me to acquire the tools to deal with my emotions, my losses and my miraculous gains. i'm not sure i ever could have imagined that it would turn out this way, that my particular parenting job would be like this. for me it's as if i set out to be a mechanic and ended up building rocket ships. this is far beyond what i could have hoped for myself and to all those who say "it takes a special person to do what you do" i say no, no one starts out with everything they need for the job, sometimes you have to go out and find it.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
to fall on love or concrete
falling really isn't so bad, well, at least not the first time. usually that first time, it catches you off guard, you're not expecting it and you're down before you even know what happened. it's really not that the fall is bad at all, it's the landing that leaves the marks. the first time you fall you normally don't even notice right away, it comes later with the bruises, aches and pains that remind you that you even fell and didn't just have some happy ride which ended on the ground.
fall number two, now that's a whole other story. your reflexes are a little more engaged this time and you might actually try to catch yourself. this isn't second nature yet though so undoubtedly you still end up down, but certainly more aware of what just happened.
after numbers three, four and five you definitely begin to develop those reflexes and refine them, catching yourself nearly all the time. rarely do you end up down, except occasionally when it might happen just a bit differently and you can't quite pull it out in time. but for the most point, you've learned your lesson and it's certainly no surprise what's happening, and it begins to occur in slow motion.
as you approach the tenth fall, things begin to change. you start to realize what circumstances surround these trips and begin to safe guard yourself against them, avoiding the precarious and in general being more cautious. situations that would have lead to falling begin to fade since you're now avoiding getting to close to the ledge and are far more calculating.
quite a substantial amount of time can go by with zero falls, and almost no indications that they were even possible. life gets really comfortable, you might even realize you carry no bruises if you thought to look. old scars even begin to fade, receding white or pink lines that bear hardly any resemblance to the monstrous events that earned them. it becomes so easy to forget the safeguards, to ignore the instincts that taught us to brace ourselves, or avoid danger.
then out of no where, bang! after such a long hiatus, we take a wrong turn, lose our footing and in the nanoseconds we watch as the ground comes crashing back up to meet us. and this time, slow motion or not, it hurts like hell.
yes, our brain kicks in the minute we start to go down, but it's too late. with no safeguards, no precautions, we're left with nothing but the hope that our previous experience with learning to fall will kick in some old instinct and maybe we'll hit bottom in such a way as to do as little bodily damage as possible. remembering not to put our hands out so we avoid a broken arm, we sacrifice the knee and roll into it. this fall, more than any others, is definitely going to leave marks. scrapes, bruised bones and the general wounded ego-that we could have allowed ourselves be taken down so easily. no one wants to be caught down on the ground, picking up the pieces of themselves, having to brush off and some how manage to laugh it off and say 'well, i didn't see that one coming...'. we all know that in general, there is nothing worse than taking an epic fall, long and hard, plummeting like an idiot face first into concrete with all the world watching. all of us prefer to take our falls in private, where we can keep that shame to ourselves.
all of this considered, it is entirely and uniquely fitting to me that we call it 'falling' in love. although i'd have to say, if i had to choose the scars i'd rather live with, i might choose concrete over love.
fall number two, now that's a whole other story. your reflexes are a little more engaged this time and you might actually try to catch yourself. this isn't second nature yet though so undoubtedly you still end up down, but certainly more aware of what just happened.
after numbers three, four and five you definitely begin to develop those reflexes and refine them, catching yourself nearly all the time. rarely do you end up down, except occasionally when it might happen just a bit differently and you can't quite pull it out in time. but for the most point, you've learned your lesson and it's certainly no surprise what's happening, and it begins to occur in slow motion.
as you approach the tenth fall, things begin to change. you start to realize what circumstances surround these trips and begin to safe guard yourself against them, avoiding the precarious and in general being more cautious. situations that would have lead to falling begin to fade since you're now avoiding getting to close to the ledge and are far more calculating.
quite a substantial amount of time can go by with zero falls, and almost no indications that they were even possible. life gets really comfortable, you might even realize you carry no bruises if you thought to look. old scars even begin to fade, receding white or pink lines that bear hardly any resemblance to the monstrous events that earned them. it becomes so easy to forget the safeguards, to ignore the instincts that taught us to brace ourselves, or avoid danger.
then out of no where, bang! after such a long hiatus, we take a wrong turn, lose our footing and in the nanoseconds we watch as the ground comes crashing back up to meet us. and this time, slow motion or not, it hurts like hell.
yes, our brain kicks in the minute we start to go down, but it's too late. with no safeguards, no precautions, we're left with nothing but the hope that our previous experience with learning to fall will kick in some old instinct and maybe we'll hit bottom in such a way as to do as little bodily damage as possible. remembering not to put our hands out so we avoid a broken arm, we sacrifice the knee and roll into it. this fall, more than any others, is definitely going to leave marks. scrapes, bruised bones and the general wounded ego-that we could have allowed ourselves be taken down so easily. no one wants to be caught down on the ground, picking up the pieces of themselves, having to brush off and some how manage to laugh it off and say 'well, i didn't see that one coming...'. we all know that in general, there is nothing worse than taking an epic fall, long and hard, plummeting like an idiot face first into concrete with all the world watching. all of us prefer to take our falls in private, where we can keep that shame to ourselves.
all of this considered, it is entirely and uniquely fitting to me that we call it 'falling' in love. although i'd have to say, if i had to choose the scars i'd rather live with, i might choose concrete over love.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
paper weight
i'm the sort of person who loves words. not just because i like to talk and they're necessary either. i'm a person who's been misunderstood and had my words twisted and misconstrued to the nth degree on so many occasions, that i've made it sort of a personal semantic mission to understand words, what they mean, what they do not mean, the best way to use them, and when it would be better to use another. personally, i believe that if i know exactly what a word means and what it does not, it will, at least in my own mind, eliminate confusion when i'm able to use the word which applies to that, and only that, which i truly mean. i'd be plagiarizing to go on with my point further were i not to quote C.S. Lewis' excerpt from his novel "Till We Have Faces" since it most accurately describes my personal feelings on the subject of words.
"lightly men talk of saying what they mean. often when he was teaching me to write in Greek, the fox would say "child, to say the very thing you really mean, the whole of it, nothing more or less or other than what you really mean; that's the whole art and joy of words."... when the time comes to you at which you will be forced at last to utter the speech which has lain at the center of our soul for years, which you have, all that time, idiot-like, been saying over and over, you'll not talk about the joy of words. i saw well why the gods do not speak to us openly, nor let us answer. till that word can be dug out of us, why should they hear the babble that we think we mean? how can they meet us face to face till we have faces?"
for me, there is a power in words, that no matter how much a picture argues, will never-and could never-be equaled.
i personally am in awe when i think of creation, when i think of that moment when God in His omnipotence made a choice about which tool to use in creating the universe. He didn't choose to rain down lightning, he didn't smash his fists together like flint sending an explosion of sparks to become stars and shards the worlds. with all power available, in the end, he chose not to shake the fabric of time and space with his fist, but with a word.
his word calling out, so full of itself, so powerful that it demanded the creation of space to hold it, demanded the creation of time to sustain the echo. to all those who argue that a picture is worth a thousand words, i ask, what single picture could ever hold a candle to a word, just a solitary word, that so complete in meaning is capable of creating the universe?
all of that said. there are some words that have significant meaning to me, or rather, their meanings are extraordinarily significant to me. all too often, although they may be the most complete definition of what i truly mean, i still refrain from using them because i know that the meaning would be lost on the one i use the word with. sure they would probably understand part of what i meant, they might even know the general idea behind the word, but in the end, the full weight of the word's glory would be lost on them. so instead, i grudgingly use more and smaller words, ones with less potential for personal connotation that might lead them to think i'm saying something altogether other than what i mean. it's actually quite disheartening to have to use empty words to fill in the void left by a word better suited, but unfortunately better saved.
of particular importance to me is the word intimacy. for me it takes every definition Webster could come up with, takes investigation into the Latin and its origins, to fully encompass the word. only then, when i've reconciled the true meaning to the idea i truly mean, do i use it. there are quite a few meanings that really don't fully sum up the word. such as its usage when talking about 'intimate apparel', of course technically when talking about clothing worn next to the skin you could call it intimate. living room style coffee shops are also often referred to as intimate. in this same vein, even references to sexual intimacy can be just as misleading, when often the word is used but really all that is really meant is the fact that it's an event that is private and personal. so for me, to use that word in these ways is, in my estimation, the equivalent of using a Stradavarious violin as a paper weight.
i actually love the words intimate and intimacy when talking about its meaning that pertains to things which exist within the inmost parts of the mind, the character or intrinsic value of one's essential nature; it resonates within me when it's talking about actual union on this deep and elemental level, and the part of the definition regarding two people having the intimacy that arises from close personal connection or familiar experience. in this regard, an intimate friend may very well be that. someone with whom you share your innermost thoughts, and reveal your true nature, and go beyond the corporeal and be who you really are, stripped of pretense, completely without deception. to me, it is during these unveiled manifestations of our pure selves, and only during these, that sharing an experience, whether it be having sex or climbing a mountain, can truly and fully be called intimate. and it is at these times when the word intimacy, like the violin, ceases to be a paper weight and becomes the instrument of music that takes your breath away.
"lightly men talk of saying what they mean. often when he was teaching me to write in Greek, the fox would say "child, to say the very thing you really mean, the whole of it, nothing more or less or other than what you really mean; that's the whole art and joy of words."... when the time comes to you at which you will be forced at last to utter the speech which has lain at the center of our soul for years, which you have, all that time, idiot-like, been saying over and over, you'll not talk about the joy of words. i saw well why the gods do not speak to us openly, nor let us answer. till that word can be dug out of us, why should they hear the babble that we think we mean? how can they meet us face to face till we have faces?"
for me, there is a power in words, that no matter how much a picture argues, will never-and could never-be equaled.
i personally am in awe when i think of creation, when i think of that moment when God in His omnipotence made a choice about which tool to use in creating the universe. He didn't choose to rain down lightning, he didn't smash his fists together like flint sending an explosion of sparks to become stars and shards the worlds. with all power available, in the end, he chose not to shake the fabric of time and space with his fist, but with a word.
his word calling out, so full of itself, so powerful that it demanded the creation of space to hold it, demanded the creation of time to sustain the echo. to all those who argue that a picture is worth a thousand words, i ask, what single picture could ever hold a candle to a word, just a solitary word, that so complete in meaning is capable of creating the universe?
all of that said. there are some words that have significant meaning to me, or rather, their meanings are extraordinarily significant to me. all too often, although they may be the most complete definition of what i truly mean, i still refrain from using them because i know that the meaning would be lost on the one i use the word with. sure they would probably understand part of what i meant, they might even know the general idea behind the word, but in the end, the full weight of the word's glory would be lost on them. so instead, i grudgingly use more and smaller words, ones with less potential for personal connotation that might lead them to think i'm saying something altogether other than what i mean. it's actually quite disheartening to have to use empty words to fill in the void left by a word better suited, but unfortunately better saved.
of particular importance to me is the word intimacy. for me it takes every definition Webster could come up with, takes investigation into the Latin and its origins, to fully encompass the word. only then, when i've reconciled the true meaning to the idea i truly mean, do i use it. there are quite a few meanings that really don't fully sum up the word. such as its usage when talking about 'intimate apparel', of course technically when talking about clothing worn next to the skin you could call it intimate. living room style coffee shops are also often referred to as intimate. in this same vein, even references to sexual intimacy can be just as misleading, when often the word is used but really all that is really meant is the fact that it's an event that is private and personal. so for me, to use that word in these ways is, in my estimation, the equivalent of using a Stradavarious violin as a paper weight.
i actually love the words intimate and intimacy when talking about its meaning that pertains to things which exist within the inmost parts of the mind, the character or intrinsic value of one's essential nature; it resonates within me when it's talking about actual union on this deep and elemental level, and the part of the definition regarding two people having the intimacy that arises from close personal connection or familiar experience. in this regard, an intimate friend may very well be that. someone with whom you share your innermost thoughts, and reveal your true nature, and go beyond the corporeal and be who you really are, stripped of pretense, completely without deception. to me, it is during these unveiled manifestations of our pure selves, and only during these, that sharing an experience, whether it be having sex or climbing a mountain, can truly and fully be called intimate. and it is at these times when the word intimacy, like the violin, ceases to be a paper weight and becomes the instrument of music that takes your breath away.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
heartstrings come undone
it never ceases to amaze me how life can change in a moment. i'm not even talking about huge life-altering events, like car accidents or a terminal diagnosis. there are those smaller moments, when we learn something, which may even seem quite trivial at first, is finally brought to light. only after closer examination do we realize that it's not just a blue piece of the sky, but the hinge on which the whole universe will now swing. swinging like a door revealing for once its other side. as if we're looking at a weaving, never understanding what each thread is for, never able to grasp the pattern, but realizing after the swing that the whole time we'd been looking at the underside. and now, for the first time, seeing the upper side, we see it and the universe in all it's glory, not as lightning bugs drowning in a black pool, but for the beautiful celestial expanse it really is.
i think when i sat down today to write this, i thought i'd be doing some piece on marriage. anyone who knows me very well knows that i love research. i'd never want to write a research paper again, but the searching and study part is like a good massage for my brain. so out of curiousity i spent some time looking up what philosophers and poets have had to say about marriage. knowing all the while that whatever it is i have to say, they've probably already said it, and even more likely, said it better than i could. you could fill libraries with the amount of books and words that have been written and said on marriage alone, and i'm sure somewhere there is a small bookstore that might just specialize on the topic.
of course i have my own thoughts on the subject, but first, some of the quotes i found were hysterically funny, yet so poignant. here's a few so they can speak for themselves:
When two people are under the influence of the most violent, most insane, most delusive, and most transient of passions, they are required to swear that they will remain in that excited, abnormal, and exhausting condition continuously until death do them part. ~G.B. Shaw, Getting Married, 1908
For two people in a marriage to live together day after day is unquestionably the one miracle the Vatican has overlooked. ~Bill Cosby, Love and Marriage
The marriage state, with or without the affection suitable to it, is the completest image of Heaven and Hell we are capable of receiving in this life. ~Richard Steele, The Spectator
In the early years, you fight because you don't understand each other. In the later years, you fight because you do. ~Joan Didion
Marriage is a wonderful invention: then again, so is a bicycle repair kit. ~Billy Connolly
alright, so that being said, my own thoughts:
beginning with a relationship, it can quite easily be compared to a dance. one in which both partners come together, and between them hold the ends of a rope. as the music plays, continuing throughout the relationship like a soundtrack with highs and lows, they dance. sometimes it's slow and controlled, other times wild and passionate. there will be times when it's much to fast, the steps too complicated, and one partner will have to warn the other that they might lose their grip. in consideration for the other, the one will work to make it manageable, to slow things down, to help the partner; they would, after all, rather accommodate, rather than send the partner flying off wildly, thus ending the dance. in a good relationship, this is the choice that is made, to take the dance in steps that keep it enjoyable, and allow them to hold on easily. because both of you dance knowing the other could choose to let go there is such a feeling of love, in this choice. knowing that each day your partner is making a choice for you, a choice to hold on, a choice to accommodate you because they want to keep dancing, and to keep dancing with you.
it's usually during this light cadence that the choice to get married is made. all this dancing, the spinning, twirling and loving, who wouldn't want to continue this forever? especially with this person who's held on, supporting you when you couldn't hold on, who made the choice to hold on tighter for you, who yielded when necessary, lead when called for, and knew all the while that you were choosing to hold on to and, therefore, never took your presence in the dance for granted. who wouldn't want this? to boldly claim this partner for life?
so together the choice is made, you'll marry.
and of course the chorus sings, and the music reaches beautiful heights, and on the wedding day the whole world stops. the dance is in slow motion, it's so easy that day. and you stand there together, in the location of your choosing and whether to a judge, pastor or priest, you hand over your rope temporarily. you say all of the beautiful things, make all the pretty promises and commit to dancing together forever. but before you're done, you get the rope back, but this time you will not be holding it, it will be tied to your arm. 'no matter' these new lovers say as they go off dancing. in the post nuptial bliss they're dancing so close they don't even notice the rope. their hand now free from holding it is this wonderful new experience.
the music commences and the dancing resumes. this couple, now tied together has a new element between them, same rope, same love, whole new dynamic.
they go dancing off into the sunset or some such nonsense and before you know it the music is playing it's highs and lows again. although this time much less consideration has to be given to each other, since after all, you're now tied together, and the threat of letting go is gone. at first this new security is amazing. does something wonderful for you and you can rest knowing that your partner will never leave you. however, when things begin to spin out of control, and the steps get too complicated, there is much less motivation to yield, to accommodate each other. after all, it's not like they might let go.
in really good marriages, and in the beginning of most others, there is still a small amount of control that is regained, some slowing and help given to each other since it is generally the habit you've established since the beginning. there can be times though, when one or the other doesn't view the dance as going as badly the other does, and might take advantage. again, falling on the fact that this rope is now tied, and the other can't just leave. they're not actually working to hinder the other person, there just isn't the fear anymore that it might be over if it doesn't settle down. usually there is a point there the knot is getting tight enough to cause discomfort, and decent people will recognise this and finally work to appease it. some people are natural moderators and continue to dance as if they're still just holding on.
now i'm speaking only out of my own experiences, for i know there are some amazing marriages out there where the dance remains beautiful and the weight of that rope is never felt and it's knot is never tightened.
for me, i've found that all too often i am the only one to yield. i'm the one who accommodates when things get out of control. however far it is from where i want to be, i'll move in to loosen the stranglehold of the knots. this rope which once was a symbol of love and the connection between us has now become a tourniquet. slowly, but with such force behind it, it's tightening the knot like a noose, and about to amputate my hand. i will not say that i've never been the one to give the rope a hard jerk, hoping to finally knock the other person over so i can finally get their attention. sure, several times. there is only so much one little arm can take before even i, the yielder, take action. the pain from these knots is bitter.
not that i want to lead while dancing, heck no, but i have to want to go in the direction the dance is going. and for me, i've realized, or admitted to myself much too late, that not only do i hate the dance i'm stuck in, but that the reason it's so bad is because generally we're not hearing the same music. there is no harmony, and dischord is reigning supreme.
i have always held out hope, beyond wild hope, that somehow the dance would slow, we could nurse our wounded arms and learn to dance again, but sadly, for me, i've had to cut the rope to save my arm. if i've learned anything in my experiences, it's been how wrong i can be and have been about the dance.
in light of this:
'love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. love never fails.'
i've come to realize that love is not the rope, love is the dance. the rope is only the commitment, you either choose to hold on, or you don't. no amount of knots, however far up your arm, can make you stay. tying the rope to your arm should only ever be symbolic and your hand should always be holding on. that way you'll know, and remember from experience, if you're about to lose your grip, it must be fixed, and never fall back on the knot as a saftey net. the knot will only make you lose your arm. the only knots that should ever be relied on are the heartstrings that get tied every time you choose to hold on.
i think when i sat down today to write this, i thought i'd be doing some piece on marriage. anyone who knows me very well knows that i love research. i'd never want to write a research paper again, but the searching and study part is like a good massage for my brain. so out of curiousity i spent some time looking up what philosophers and poets have had to say about marriage. knowing all the while that whatever it is i have to say, they've probably already said it, and even more likely, said it better than i could. you could fill libraries with the amount of books and words that have been written and said on marriage alone, and i'm sure somewhere there is a small bookstore that might just specialize on the topic.
of course i have my own thoughts on the subject, but first, some of the quotes i found were hysterically funny, yet so poignant. here's a few so they can speak for themselves:
When two people are under the influence of the most violent, most insane, most delusive, and most transient of passions, they are required to swear that they will remain in that excited, abnormal, and exhausting condition continuously until death do them part. ~G.B. Shaw, Getting Married, 1908
For two people in a marriage to live together day after day is unquestionably the one miracle the Vatican has overlooked. ~Bill Cosby, Love and Marriage
The marriage state, with or without the affection suitable to it, is the completest image of Heaven and Hell we are capable of receiving in this life. ~Richard Steele, The Spectator
In the early years, you fight because you don't understand each other. In the later years, you fight because you do. ~Joan Didion
Marriage is a wonderful invention: then again, so is a bicycle repair kit. ~Billy Connolly
alright, so that being said, my own thoughts:
beginning with a relationship, it can quite easily be compared to a dance. one in which both partners come together, and between them hold the ends of a rope. as the music plays, continuing throughout the relationship like a soundtrack with highs and lows, they dance. sometimes it's slow and controlled, other times wild and passionate. there will be times when it's much to fast, the steps too complicated, and one partner will have to warn the other that they might lose their grip. in consideration for the other, the one will work to make it manageable, to slow things down, to help the partner; they would, after all, rather accommodate, rather than send the partner flying off wildly, thus ending the dance. in a good relationship, this is the choice that is made, to take the dance in steps that keep it enjoyable, and allow them to hold on easily. because both of you dance knowing the other could choose to let go there is such a feeling of love, in this choice. knowing that each day your partner is making a choice for you, a choice to hold on, a choice to accommodate you because they want to keep dancing, and to keep dancing with you.
it's usually during this light cadence that the choice to get married is made. all this dancing, the spinning, twirling and loving, who wouldn't want to continue this forever? especially with this person who's held on, supporting you when you couldn't hold on, who made the choice to hold on tighter for you, who yielded when necessary, lead when called for, and knew all the while that you were choosing to hold on to and, therefore, never took your presence in the dance for granted. who wouldn't want this? to boldly claim this partner for life?
so together the choice is made, you'll marry.
and of course the chorus sings, and the music reaches beautiful heights, and on the wedding day the whole world stops. the dance is in slow motion, it's so easy that day. and you stand there together, in the location of your choosing and whether to a judge, pastor or priest, you hand over your rope temporarily. you say all of the beautiful things, make all the pretty promises and commit to dancing together forever. but before you're done, you get the rope back, but this time you will not be holding it, it will be tied to your arm. 'no matter' these new lovers say as they go off dancing. in the post nuptial bliss they're dancing so close they don't even notice the rope. their hand now free from holding it is this wonderful new experience.
the music commences and the dancing resumes. this couple, now tied together has a new element between them, same rope, same love, whole new dynamic.
they go dancing off into the sunset or some such nonsense and before you know it the music is playing it's highs and lows again. although this time much less consideration has to be given to each other, since after all, you're now tied together, and the threat of letting go is gone. at first this new security is amazing. does something wonderful for you and you can rest knowing that your partner will never leave you. however, when things begin to spin out of control, and the steps get too complicated, there is much less motivation to yield, to accommodate each other. after all, it's not like they might let go.
in really good marriages, and in the beginning of most others, there is still a small amount of control that is regained, some slowing and help given to each other since it is generally the habit you've established since the beginning. there can be times though, when one or the other doesn't view the dance as going as badly the other does, and might take advantage. again, falling on the fact that this rope is now tied, and the other can't just leave. they're not actually working to hinder the other person, there just isn't the fear anymore that it might be over if it doesn't settle down. usually there is a point there the knot is getting tight enough to cause discomfort, and decent people will recognise this and finally work to appease it. some people are natural moderators and continue to dance as if they're still just holding on.
now i'm speaking only out of my own experiences, for i know there are some amazing marriages out there where the dance remains beautiful and the weight of that rope is never felt and it's knot is never tightened.
for me, i've found that all too often i am the only one to yield. i'm the one who accommodates when things get out of control. however far it is from where i want to be, i'll move in to loosen the stranglehold of the knots. this rope which once was a symbol of love and the connection between us has now become a tourniquet. slowly, but with such force behind it, it's tightening the knot like a noose, and about to amputate my hand. i will not say that i've never been the one to give the rope a hard jerk, hoping to finally knock the other person over so i can finally get their attention. sure, several times. there is only so much one little arm can take before even i, the yielder, take action. the pain from these knots is bitter.
not that i want to lead while dancing, heck no, but i have to want to go in the direction the dance is going. and for me, i've realized, or admitted to myself much too late, that not only do i hate the dance i'm stuck in, but that the reason it's so bad is because generally we're not hearing the same music. there is no harmony, and dischord is reigning supreme.
i have always held out hope, beyond wild hope, that somehow the dance would slow, we could nurse our wounded arms and learn to dance again, but sadly, for me, i've had to cut the rope to save my arm. if i've learned anything in my experiences, it's been how wrong i can be and have been about the dance.
in light of this:
'love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. love never fails.'
i've come to realize that love is not the rope, love is the dance. the rope is only the commitment, you either choose to hold on, or you don't. no amount of knots, however far up your arm, can make you stay. tying the rope to your arm should only ever be symbolic and your hand should always be holding on. that way you'll know, and remember from experience, if you're about to lose your grip, it must be fixed, and never fall back on the knot as a saftey net. the knot will only make you lose your arm. the only knots that should ever be relied on are the heartstrings that get tied every time you choose to hold on.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, December 22, 2008
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.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
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.
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.
Friday, September 12, 2008
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
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;
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.
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.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
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.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
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. ;-)
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.
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.
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!
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!
Thursday, July 31, 2008
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
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.
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.
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