Three Bonded Siblings

If I never did another decent thing in my life, if I never accomplished anything else, if I never made another good choice, the one thing that would always sustain me would be the knowledge that I kept these three siblings together, growing up in our home, safe and secure...but most importantly with each other. Yolie, Daniel and Joe would have never made it without each other.

Now that they are all grown, it is even sweeter.

Congratulations Daniel!

It's better if I talk about stuff after the fact, why borrow trouble? No one in our family likes for me to not be home, "It's too quiet and scary without you Mama," is what I heard when I returned last night after 48 hours.

I'd left with Gito on Wednesday night for Daniel's Army basic training graduation. Yolie, Chuck, CJ, Joe and Daniel's girlfriend went a day early for the Beret Ceremony, but that would really have pushed my children over the edge for me to be gone that long.

Sarah, Grandma and Grandpa held down the fort at home with a great deal of Vanessa help. She was awesome, I'd left meals cooked, but it takes a huge amount of work to get it all on the table and she did it.

Sarah and Ray Ray had come here at the crack of dawn to get the kids to school, many phone calls between me and the house, even one to Ms. Carr to make sure Jonathan really was telling the truth about pj day at school. He was.

Gito and I totally needed the time together, he's 16 now, we're running out of childhood time. He was fun to be with, fascinated at the army stuff, and glad to be with Daniel.

We had to leave Ft Benning and get Daniel to Ft Gordon for his AIT school, then he got a weekend pass, so he's home thankfully.

But the Bubbas and I will have to get him back on base soon. I'm loading up the van, "Road Trip," and the kids are thrilled. Their Spring Break is now underway.

Our "Classrooms"

My friend, Merilee, sent me this picture of her kids, she has two more grown kids as well...we find ourselves in the same boat, as do all adoptive parents, in adopting street smart children (a rather polite, restrained phrase I believe), and then trying to calm them down, teach them to trust and to love, to heal emotionally and eventually to enter adulthood better prepared for it than if they'd stayed in foster care. We have so little time in which to do so much. It's daunting but doable.

I have four Gifted children, one eyeglass losing darling who'd sent me back to the park at the crack of dawn...

Chuy did find his glasses the other morning after they spent an unplanned night at the park, hanging from the soccer goal, right where he'd shed them...an odd game strategy for a goalie who, you'd think, would need enhanced eyesight.

But such is the logic in a family like ours.

The drought is stressing me out already, the garden usually being the one place where things work out for me on a consistent basis.

Larry Bird, basketball icon, practiced 100 free throws a day thereby giving him a staggering career free-throw-shooting percentage of .886, the ninth best of all time.

Luck? Of course not, he practiced to succeed, using discipline and his hard work ethic.

My son, Daniel, finishing up his Army basic training, has called and written to express his frustration at others there who balk, disobey and literally rebel at drill sergeants, causing the entire platoon to be punished. Daniel, mine since age 6, is a very hard worker, very disciplined, but he's told me what a learning experience this has been for him. He'll take something away from this, an even better man (if that's possible), for him this was purely a stepping stone, a price to pay to get where he wants to be...all super mature, intelligent thoughts from a 21 year old man.

I listen to him, read his letters, and ponder continually about how to instill these values in my other kids, how can I inject my own pure, intense drive and determination into their psyches? Give them the foothold that they'll need in our world, to teach them to strive not for riches, but for personal satisfaction, to help others, and to be fulfilled.

I suppose it boils down to the simple fact that I truly believe that I can do this for them. Belief often seems to be all that it takes. Yes I visualize it, and I expend two tons of personal energy and hard work into this. It's simply perseverance, imagining and believing, then making it happen.

Joey too will someday do much better, he'll be more than an inmate, I told his caseworker, Pam, that I still believe I was meant to be Joey's mom for a reason.

Looks Like I'm Gonna Succeed....'Cause I Ain't Quitting

I am in the middle of some good things that I'll blog about soon, when they're completed.

I'm praying for rain as we are already 6 inches behind this year, weather near 90 again, we had one day of spring then it seemed as if we jumped full blown into a summertime drought. Sucks for a gardener.

Years ago I used to read Success magazine, that's where I learned about many of my favorite authors and motivational speakers. Call it a crutch if you will, I prefer to refer to this obsession as personal coaching; something I believe that everyone deeply needs as life can wear you down at times. People marvel, "Cindy, I don't know how you do it all," and this is one way that I constantly rejuvenate myself.

Sucess apparently folded for a time, a sad commentary on society, but at BestMagazineDeals.com I found a cheap subscription, and have received my newest issue. I am thrilled, I'll read every word in it, highlight stuff and memorize what I need to strengthen myself.

I was listening to an old Tony Robbins casette tape and he said, "Imagine something you'd love to do IF you truly felt that you could not, would not fail at it. If you had a non-failure guarantee."

I thought about raising 39 kids, that's be my choice of what I'd love to do.

Then he said, "the only way to fail is to quit."

I been chewing on that all night.

Chuy's Brand New Glasses

"If you want your life to be more rewarding, you have to change the way you think." An Oprah thought that I read from my motivational quote page today. Sometimes I don't even understand the quotes because I'm not there in my life yet, but there's always one I can hang on to that day.

I don't think that my life is drudgery and too much work, I truly see the challenges each day...yet I'm human enough to drag my butt at times, or my big feet in protest, but falling out of my usual good mood is rarely for a long time.

My old pastor David used to say that all he wanted from God was to arrive in Heaven and hear, "Well done, my good and faithful servant." I've hung on to that thought now for decades. What car I drove, what clothes I wore...doesn't matter, but I truly believe that taking care of my kids is what counts for me in eternity.

I'm a little shook up from Ed's sudden death, I'm thinking of a dear friend who just lost her mother out west, and another friend fighting the effects of chemo. We really don't have much time on earth, of course death always makes one think about what really matters.

Joe and Sergi were devastated last night at the funeral home, men enough to cry now rather than to act out. There's progress in our world.

I'm the middle of a bunch of stuff that needs to get done, sapping my blogging time but nothing's wrong here, four soccer teams going, Vanessa joined the ladies church league softball while Sonny and Gito joined the men's, giving me six teams to schedule on my planner.

Miriam is 18 today, another "grown up" in my house. Six more birthdays in the next week or so.

Chuy just told me that his new glasses were left last night down on the soccer field...

2 more

Oh yeah, Bronson and Anthony too.

Tending

I appreciate all y'all's encouragement yesterday, the comments and the emails wanting me to keep it real and I'll certainly continue to do so.

I'm much stronger and fired back up today, hitting the ground early this morning with a great many things to do.

Edgar, turning 20 yesterday, had a week long meltdown, we again worked it out like he knew we would, after he apologized.

My older children are devastated over Ed's death, Yolie pointed out that due to their past issues of abuse, they don't let many male non-family members into their lives. Add to this, my kids don't deal with loss very well, this'll be tough since now we are the ones who need to be strong for the people who are always strong for us. It'll be hard, but important to my kids to grow emotionally through this.

Ed, and three of our pastors, Tony, Terry and Tracy are the other three males that they totally trust outside of our family.

Ed

One of the nicest men I know passed away today. Mr. Ed is kin to Miss Lisa and Pastor Tracy who are two of my favorite people on earth; friends, mentors and role models to my entire family.

Ed hired about ten of my kids over the years in his restaurant, he mentored Big Joe during Joe's most tough years, Ed admirably held himself back from knocking Joe, Jesse and Sergi's heads together during their very difficult older teen years when he never fired them, although they surely deserved to be let go. They were emotionally AWFUL back then, defiant and rebellious, yet Ed put up with them.

Ed was sweet and loving to Gina, Marcela, Yolie, Saray and Deysi; fatherly and supportive. His darling wife, Susan, equally so.

Lately, for years actually, Ed has sent tons of food to our family; cases, boxes and bread lots, huge amounts, he'd just done so again yesterday.

I'm so shocked over his untimely death, floored and upset.

I asked Yolie to tell Big Joe, knowing how upset he'd be, I called Jesse in Texas and the rest of my grown kids, they're all so stunned and saddened.

Our prayers are with his wife, his children, grandchildren and all the rest of his family. He is going to be deeply missed.

Used to be

Here's what I struggle with....

If I act like Sally Sunshine all the time, I'd be lying to other adoptive parents. Life isn't always that way, and I don't want to give the false impression that we have it all together down our dirt road, and y'all don't.

We don't either.

Yet, if I complain, my own kids take it personally (hmmm....DUH!), and I've even gotten emails about it along the lines of "well, you signed up for it."

So what to do?

This blog is primarily written, as is my other one, to support adoptive parents simply because we did sign up for it, we chose this life...but, it is the toughest possible existence. Other people cannot imagine that some nights are beyond fearful, the amount of venom spit in our direction because children are rageful about what was done to them years ago, and the physical destruction of what we've bought and paid for, like our houses, is painfully enormous.

It doesn't matter if parents adopted one LOC 6 kid or a dozen, one alone can destroy so much.

I talked for a long time last night with another mom, who's taken massive blow after massive disaster, yet she's still standing so strong. One tough, admirable woman certainly and one line particularly kept me thinking. She misses who she used to be, when she had young sweet children, who clung and needed a mama. Now she has raging teens and the astronomical level of hatefulness with which I am sadly familiar with as well.

Adolescence in a birth child can be rocky, in older adopted children it can be devastating.

I also have a formerly sweet kid going hateful on me now. It's apparently my fault that he grew up and shouldn't be babied, after not having any baby time when he needed it as an infant. Logically, one would think that he'd be appreciative of the years we did have together, but instead he is resentful that now he is an adult...must be MY fault.

I miss who I used to be also. Unless one lives like this, it is very difficult to portray to others about getting up each morning in a home where you know people are going to vent their hatred at life on you, it can be debilitating.

That said, I also have the benefit of holding adorable grandchildren who will be spared the damage that their parents unfairly suffered through. So it is worth the emotional price that I too have to pay if the grandchildren are to be normal.

But I'm a shell of who I used to be.

A Very Interesting Blog

I've been reading an interesting blog lately, a social worker somewhere.

Blaming, blaming, blaming...

Claudia just instant messaged me about her blog entry today at the exact same time that I was posting this one on my other blog.

Co-incidence? Crap no, it's the reality of our lives, it's what we live with on a daily, minute by minute, every single life event in our similar families, built from the foster care system.

It is very, very difficult to live with this constant hammering at one's sensibilities, but it is part of the process.

What Rarely Happens In Adoption

After graduating from high school, age 18, or when one is self-supporting and old enough to go, what rarely happens is, "Thank you Mom, see you soon."

With Daniel I even got a, "Thank you Mom for a great life," when thanks would have been nice enough.

With many (most) others, they provoke me until I correct their behavior... reason enough then for them to fly in a rage, pack their stuff and go. It's too hard to leave otherwise, to leave the only one who has ever stood by them, who has ever truly loved and cared for them.

They attempt to make it easy on themselves, to justify leaving by disobeying me, breaking house rules, or acting hateful so I have to say, "In my house, these are the rules..."

Feeling then justified, the stock reply is, "Well I just won't live here anymore."

Suits me buddy. Do you think I enjoy hostility and hatefulness? I've been nothing but good to everyone, which alone is too much for them to take.

No one has to ever leave our house if they act right, attend church, and pick up after themselves. But they seem to think when they have a job, they are entitled to maid service. Uh-huh honey, not when this maid pays all the bills, it just doesn't work that way. Grow up.

So since I haven't begged the one to stay, who's been dropping hints, he predictably accelerated into toddler hatefulness, but it's so unattractive in a 20 year old. "I'm a grown man!" thinking words alone will do it. Nope, grown men are self-supporting, mature, and nice to others.

I'm still here, I still love him, but I don't want to live with rudeness. At some point I should be set free.

I even told him that he'd do this, that he'd pick a fight and act ugly, because he couldn't bear to leave normally. "No, I won't" he'd replied indignantly.

But he did. I don't even want to be in the same room with his oppositional self.

I don't want a "thank-you," just a polite hug good-bye, but I've learned life goes better for an adoptive mom, especially when she adopted tough kids, that as long as she has no expectations of anything in return...such as a simple thing like gratitude, all will be well.

2:30 and Sleepless in My Room

This morning was a case study in logistics. I awoke at 2:30 and was wide awake almost all night worrying about the broke down bus, my truck that won't crank, what's gonna become of Teresa, Alex, Joey and Fabian, pondering all that Dr. Mandy talked to me about yesterday, and how I'd get to Daniel's Army basic training graduation next week. Then I started obsessing about three sibling groups that I hope to match with potential families soon.

(Linda B in Athens...God had me praying for you then specifically. Becky in Okla...I deleted your last email accidently...possibly others as well so if I haven't responded I apologize.)

I finally just quit trying to sleep at sixish and got up to hit yard sales with Grandma and Tony where I truly scored today on clay pots, a single bed mattress, and cool toys for the kids. Came squealing back home by 8:30 this morning to get four teams to soccer practice, while Grandpa ended up taking two of the teams to a different location for me.

Lily, age 9, went off with Carlos, Sonny and Gito, who were working for Chuck and Joe; Lily staying with Yolie to help her with CJ and Alyssa, who met us at the soccer field to let the babies run off their energy. Lily just recently was the baby; in our huge family, you step up to the plate as soon as possible. Lily was so proud of herself this morning, getting up with me, copying me by eating oats, flax seeds, organic raisens and wheat bran in a bowl with soy milk. Lily, CW, Jack, Sarah and Cristy have very similar taste buds to mine, craving good food.

Now I'm too tired to think straight, and I have ten more hours until bedtime, but Grandpa's running to the dump for me with Javy, Martin and CW, I'm cooking spaghetti for tonight, and washing all my new pots so I can propagate more houseplants.

All is well in our world for now.

Corrective

Just as my military sons have accomplished something way out of my realm of experience, so too has my daughter, Monica, done so. She's a step-mother to this darling young lady, Kortney, who has become Tabby's best friend. I gained a son-in-law and a new granddaughter that day in September.

Teresa left today, again, for her therapeutic placement. Her issues are so severe, even her therapist is unsure as to the outcome. Duh, she's not psychic, and all we can do is offer Teresa this alternative to being locked up by DJJ, as she seems to be completely unable to stop herself from stealing. RAD to the core, this move seems to mean nothing to her, I feel like a failure in being unable to reach her after more than 8 years. Yes I know the odds were stacked against me, but I am emotionally invested here...I am, she's not at all.

I peel my other kids off me, hugs are rampant around here, yet this morning I had to ask for a good-bye hug from Teresa. She complied, yet there was no attached meaning in it for her, it's scary to see such empty eyes in a very intelligent girl.

Fabian called last night, full of empty excuses over the "incident" that prevented him from coming home this weekend.

On the good side, Miriam received a huge raise at McDonalds, I'm proud of her, she's proud of herself. This isn't any glamour job, it's tedious but I believe it is important. When I was young, working at minimum wage jobs, it taught me quickly the value of education, how much I needed one, so as not to end up nickle and diming myself forever. She'll turn 18 next week and will graduate from high school in May.

The kids had two half-days of school, CW came in yesterday at 11:30, went outside and worked on a project until dark, coming in quickly to eat and rushing back out again. We're clearing out an area for me to plant more blueberries and figs.

We had fun last night, Sonny and Gito were the project managers, the leaders, and they were so silly, enticing all the Bubbas to follow suit. Dark is really dark out in the country, no streetlights so when the sun goes down and I holler for us all to go inside, no one wanted to do so. Getting up this morning, facing school, resulted in a heap of children not wanting to go. Great school, but the point is, it's more fun at home.

With Fabian and Joey not here, we haven't had a single fight in months, little drama, the mood and atmosphere is considerably lightened, the stress load has vanished and goofiness is prevailing. This is how I imagined a large family would be, it's still wall-to-wall work, but it's rewarding. We still have many issues but the severity is lessened.

I gotta ask for permission to link this social worker's blog. It's always supremely interesting and I'm quoting, "Living in a healthy family is the corrective emotional experience the child needs, and his relationship with you and other family members is what has the potential to heal him--and only that. That's the "secret" CPS workers are withholding from you--it's (almost) all up to you."

My severely troubled children are still family members even though it is unsafe, or not therapeutic enough, for them to live here right now. Yet this is where they belong, where they come from, and where their family members are.

For 35 of my kids, being in a family has been enough of a 'corrective emotional experience', but four of my children have needed professional help, way beyond a mother's capabilities.

No Toilet Paper? Cool

I was expounding on money issues today on my other blog and checking out these pioneering heroes. Again from the NY Times, Dr. G's influence on me.

Heck yeah

My girls borrowed a pile of dresses from Hannah in an attempt to save me money during prom, I greatly appreciate that. Mayra is just playing dress-up, she's only 13, but this is Miriam's senior prom, and Vanessa has pulled her life together admirably after last school year's fiasco.

I'm writing an average of three posts a day counting both blogs. I type like a tarantula, according to one son of mine, but I have a lot in my head to express; plenty of material; when one lives with a couple dozen children and is kin to so many more, there are no shortage of events, and a preponderance of challenges.

Some days I look at my site statistics and I can hop back to referral sites. I've read several times where people have spent a few days reading all my archives, which is cumbersome enough, but they've also then decided that this life is not for them; adoption from the foster care system is too rough. I don't really feel as if I've discouraged anyone, I'd rather paint a realistic picture, and I believe I'm verbal enough that some readers probably feel blood spattered and sweat soaked after reading about some of our days.

I believe that I've also encouraged others to hang in there; compared to my kids their life isn't so bad; or if a scrawny ole lady like me can buck up under the strain, so can they.

I've been asked if I'd do this again, knowing what was ahead for me? My first answer might have been no. If I'd known what all was coming? That's why God doesn't let us see the road ahead, we need to walk by faith. I wouldn't have believed I could have been so strong had I not walked through the fire and survived. But I have, and my strength and gutsiness now would have me say, "Heck yeah, bring it on!"

This Phone...

When the phone rang this afternoon, I had a little twinge inside me, wondering, "what now?" but realizing that I've caught PTSD from my kids. Not everything has to be bad...but this could have been.

Monica is 5 months pregnant and a rash came over her, her fever spiked suddenly to 105 and she was heading to the doctor's office, about 45 minutes from her house. Sarah was calling the nurse to expect Monica when Carolina and her four kids drove up...I stay on pins and needles over Carolina anyway, praying that she'll make it all the way through her pregnancy without delivering early.

Turns out Monica's husband's daughter and two small nieces were staying at their house.

"OK, I'll load up baby seats and meet you at the doctor's office, the kids can come to our house and play while you see the doctor."

And play they did. We have the funhouse, all the kids to play with. I just sent home some tired little girls (wearing pink and yellow in the picture). Poor Monica has the flu. She'd gone up north last weekend, where it is still winter and flu season.

Twice a year the elementary school has half days to allow time for conferences where the children's progress is discussed...or lack of progress. Usually I spend the time explaining, but hopefully not excusing, why traumatized children act the way that they do. How if they even get to school, dressed and fed, then there is progress in our world.

The truth is, unless you live with traumatized children 24-7, it is difficult to imagine the behaviors. I live here, I've lived with these behaviors for 20 years, and often still find myself attempting to decipher everything.

There are no stratgies to implement...other then the passing of time, to allow my kids to heal their profound emotional wounds, to keep understanding my commitment to them, and to just be kids who are safe, well-fed and loved. This is still a new experience for them, after all the damages that were done to them, for them to just be taken care of correctly.

We have excellent teachers, very concerned, deeply caring, committed and absolutely the cream of the crop. They don't get any better anywhere, these are the best. They present an educated, united front to my children, teaching them about responsibility and accountability and, of course, academics. I know it is frustrating for the teachers, at times, when they feel that it just isn't sinking in to my kids...but it is. I see it, I live with them, and I can tell eons of differences over the last five years.

I got 9 out of 10 conferences covered this morning, now the kids are home for the rest of the day, which I enjoy.

Atypical Pepe

So Pepe (Jose) this morning, pausing on his way out the door said, "Mom?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry for all the trouble," he muttered.

"I appreciate that son," I replied, knowing if I made a very big deal or forced him to expound upon the issue, he'd retract and we'd have a meltdown.

Interesting as he is very non-verbal...bi-polar springs to mind even, as we'll have a tough week that involves 100% non-compliance on his part, slowing our family down to baby steps, and then he'll unexpectedly get with the program, and not limit our activities.

He had soccer practice last night, got in the van, and told he how much he liked his new coach...also an unusual sentiment for him. Maybe he's growing up?

We'd had an uneventful morning, I'd told everyone our rugged schedule between 3-8 tonight what with all the practices and tutoring of 7 kids. We're still scrambling to make sure we have enough cleats and shin guards for everyone, I know we need more soccer socks, but I'll do that later.

Forcing My Own Gratitude

I'm exhausted, the kind that sleep doesn't cure; the exhaustion that comes from expending energy 24-7 with little reciprocity or consideration by others...the others who are taking said energy.

I'll be fine, if anything it's the lingering aftereffects of major surgery, a busy calendar, and crawling into my 50s with very young kids in tow. I get up, hit the ground running, and then it's hard to sleep at night with everything running through my head, but warm days cure anything; digging in the dirt like I got to do for a few minutes after supper works for me.

It's just hard to be me sometimes, the reservoir of criticism, resentment of their past, and ill-feelings...give me a break kids, no one has ever tried this hard to parent you, lighten up and enjoy it; be glad you have a mother who loves you. Yeah right, Cindy...in your world?

Yet, I look at CJ, Alexander, other grandbabies and most grown children...their love means the world to me. They are why I do what I do.

So as we start the spring soccer season with 14 kids on four teams, as I know I'll be cooking early suppers and spending hours at the rec park, I should just be glad that we're not in the midst of dramas, fights, hassles and acting out. Just the regular constant draining of all I have basically.

Last night one team practiced, tonight I have three teams hitting the field.

Lily got puking sick at school yesterday, came home early and was fine thankfully, and all my hens are laying eggs everywhere. Under the camillas, in the pampas grass, behind their coop, and all over the garden shed...as oppositional as my children, not a one single egg laid in the nesting areas inside the coop.

Actually (such an overused, unnecessary in sentence structure), we're in a pretty good place right now and I need to be grateful.

A New Therapist

Spending all morning getting 20 plus kids out the door, cuddling with Alexander, watching the temperature rise outside, knowing I have a weeks worth of 70 degree days puts a smile on my face.

To my more insecure children, I am messing with their greatest fear...leaving. Teresa will be temporarily attending a residential therapeutic program sponsored by both the mental health system and her involvement with the Department of Juvenile Justice for continuous thievery...big stuff and little stuff, constantly and unrelentingly...I know it is part of RAD, a zero conscience manifesting itself in no remorse, nor any understanding, that stealing is wrong.

Paloma and Jose are escalating their misbehaviors. Adoption 101 in action. Logic would lead me to believe that this perceived threat would make kids behave so that they don't get "sent away." In the traumatized child's eye, what they greatly fear is indeed happening, just as they feared so in their illogical response, they are acting out.

OK, I get it, I see the problem, now I have to learn how to successfully deal with it, circumvent it and help them to get past it.

Just as with Fabian and Joey, when law enforcement agencies get involved, outcomes are out of my hands and into the hands of the justice system. Break the law, there are consequences. DUH.

This is something I've attempted to teach over and over and over again. Some are choosing to learn it the hard way.

It's not a matter of having a conservative, strict, Bible-thumping mother, on any level, in any religion or value system; one would have to buy into the concept that stealing is wrong, that it hurts someone.

And, as I've slowly learned, when we seem to get one problem resolved in some way, another issue springs to the forefront, disallowing me to ever let down my guard. I have a new therapist, fresh out of her PhD experience, coming in to work with Paloma and Mayra on their meanness and aggression.

Miss Mandy, astute and awesome, works for Dr. G, and I'm blessed to also be learning from her, what she knows about children. I always need a fresh perspective from someone who understands what I am dealing with, she'll come to our house as well, where it is less emotionally threatening for the children. She's a beautiful lady, and she's as smart as they come...another positive role model for my girls.

Grandpa's Big Adventure Today

100 Months

Almost 100 months ago Tony and Martin joined our family (along with Teresa and Joey).

Tony, then a month before his third birthday, in diapers and sleeping in a crib, started hanging out with Lily who was then barely learning to walk. They bonded and have been steadfast friends ever since, they're in the same grade, he's detail oriented and keeps her very creative, arty self on track.

Martin, then four, started hanging out with almost 3 year old CW, and every single picture shows the two of them hanging on each other. Inseparable, best friends, buddy brothers, CW has given Martin so much confidence and inner strength.

When this 100 month anniversary arrives they, all four, want to celebrate in some way. Me too, it's the cool stuff like this that makes us all smile.

None of these four have any memories of life without each other.

My Working Conditions Again

Blogging a post on positive thinking while Jojo clings, and Edgar (who has his own room) snores close to his mama on his day off...such is my life. Gito is chasing the chickens who've eluded us and are hiding in the woods, Vanessa's taking pictures, and Grandpa is taking the kids to hear a Marachi band at the library.

The Influentials

This cold snap stinks. I didn't go outside all day yesterday, except to the dump where I took the bags of poop riddled items. Scrubbed a couple of bathrooms down, cooked a lot, and sat with Marcela and Deysi, yapping away the afternoon. I can happily live with a lack of drama.

I can't wait to read The Influentials. Marcela and I talked about it, as she's a leader also, she's such a friendly person, succeeding hugely at work due to her ability to make everyone feel so good about themselves. Plus she has the uncanny, and admirable, ability to remember everyone's face and name that she's ever met in her 20 years here in our county.

Sarah and I, already applying the checklist to her on Friday, no wonder we are such emotionally happy campers. This subtitle, One American in ten tells the other nine how to vote, where to eat and what to buy. They are The Influentials, blew us both away, but it makes so much sense. Everyone is searching for meaning in their lives, wondering how to be significant, and to make their lives count for something.

I'm glad that I found my calling, I wouldn't recommend this to everyone, it takes a peculiar person to live as we do, but it is rewarding and gives me meaning.

I Don't Think SO

I just got this comment:

"I thought your post was interesting. Got here through search. For diet and weight loss information please visit Weight Loss"

Hmmmm, I'm nearly 5'7" and I weighed 119 this morning. How much do they WANT me to lose?

I don't understand depression, yet I've been depressed at times, frustrated might be a better word, since I'm a "fixer" by nature, and I've been unable to fix some of the severe issues here.

I truly don't comprehend suicide. The finality alone, the ultimate act of selfishness, leaving others to deal with the aftermath and the grief is unfathomable to me. I was dismayed to read this article. I have no clue as to his demons, I haven't even thought about his music since the 70s, and I wouldn't presume to have an opinion other than what a waste of human potential and talent.

I'll be the first to admit life is hard, I made my own life even harder by taking on the responsibility of raising so many troubled children, but I also will reap the benefits through their overcoming abilities, their many successes and all my wonderful grandbabies.

I've wallowed a good bit, both within my blogging, conversations with others, and poundingly hard work in the garden when I'm thwarted at every turn in my attempts at resolving situations, but duh that's life, girlfriend.

I blogged on the other blog my feces frustration, last weekend it was all around the bathroom, today a bedroom. Until this weekend we've had windows open, attic fans on, fresh air blowing through my house, redolent of sweetly frangrant tea olives blooming outside. A quick cold snap forced me to empty the greenhouse, a couple dozen trays of large seedlings brought inside for two days, and all the windows slammed shut reluctantly. Highs in the upper 50s today, not good enough. Look at me with all these sentence fragments...

Everything is beautifully blooming around here, tonight will be even colder, but I anticipate a snap back from all the plants. Like my life stressors, this too will pass.

From fragments to cliches, someone needs more coffee...

Aspirin

Beth came over with more t-shirts than we've ever owned in our lives. She must have ironed each one, neatly folded up perfectly...my kids excitedly claiming the ones they wanted, I got some too. Thank you Beth.

I was despondent, for a minute, over my inability to reach Teresa, to change the behaviors of a child with Reactive Attachment Disorder. Yes I know if I were capable of doing that, I'd be a whale of a wealthy woman right now, as the world would pay millions for a cure.

I wailed to Yolie, "What was the point of her getting a mom? Should I have saved this wasted 8 years of energy for a child who didn't give a hoot anyway? Used it on kids who'll never get a mom?"

It's not like I think good thoughts all the time. I have despairing moments as well.

Yolie, as usual, got me back on track, reminding me that it was all worth it. ALL kids have a need to belong, and Teresa might someday look back on my efforts, might start to understand that I tried. If nothing else, her two siblings, Martin and Tony, have greatly benefited from being in a family. Even her older brother, Joey, knows that I did all I could.

In his 20s, maybe even he will calm down, obey laws, understand more about life?

Maybe I have to work this hard, to bang my head against stones, just to understand that the next generation will be so much better off for all my efforts. I can look at my grandchildren and smile, knowing that their parents love them, knowing that all is well in their lives...that truly does make it all worth it...as I reach for an aspirin.

Volumetrics or DUH

Son of a Gun! Finally there's an mainstream media explanation of good eating, this is why I eat huge volumes of food yet don't gain weight. This is such a big, non-glamorous DUH. I've taught my children to eat this way as well, they seem to use junk food as a rebellion when they grow up and move out but it beats crack cocaine as a choice of I'll show her.

My fifth graders drank nasty sodas, ate meat, and other non whole grains...crap they aren't used to digesting, when they were on their trip, and all three are home puking this morning, Chuy tried to make it to school, but vomited on the way there.

We're going to have a hunker down, low-key weekend where we can all reconnect and get back into their routines.

Last Sunday I wore two different black shoes to church, prompting smart alecks to remark, "We didn't even know you had two pairs of shoes."

Preston's Mom, Edith, sat with us and either didn't notice my mismatched shoes, or chose to just not point it out. Heck, I was already at church, it wasn't like I'd have run home to change or anything.

Dr. G is coming this morning. Instead of my kids dreading him coming here as "therapy" they look to him more as a confidant, someone to help them process stuff, to understand life. We are so fortunate that he comes here, so emotionally nonthreatening to my scared-rabbit children.

NotToo Sure

I'm not sure now that letting Allen, Chuy and CW go away was a good thing. Allen cried this morning about leaving for school, I believe that waking up each morning at Jekyll Island, realizing Mama wasn't there, was a bit painful for him. Very, very clingy now, equally so for CW. Chuy was way too exhausted to make it, he slept until 10, but one of his teachers reported that he'd been busy non-stop on the trip. All three boys had a great time, I just have to keep their emotions in mind.

This morning was the first grade musical at school, Jack and Mauri were in "The Cheese Stands Alone" but I kept calling it "Who Cut The Cheese?" instead. Mauri's brother, Tommy, waddled in carrying a whoopie cushion provoking Yolie to remark, "That's how anyone can tell he's my grandson." And, of course, I wanted to put in under the unsuspecting grandparents attending the musical but I resisted the urge.

Javy too has been way, way clingy lately. He's tall now, has to bend down to hug me, but as we approach the end of his fifth year, he's becoming very open about his feelings. Not so for two of his siblings, Paloma and Jose, I can tell I'm in for a continuing rough ride there.

Paloma was so disruptive last night at bedtime, hollering that everyone hits her, which is not true, and I had to move Mayra, Tabby and Sabrina to other ends of the house so that they could sleep in peace. I am very concerned over their (Jose and Paloma) lack of an ability to understand reality. They lie about other people and they lie to themselves, discussions of cause and effect seem to have no effect on them and they are both sticky fingered. I'm setting up intensive counseling for both of them.

Their baby brother, Jonathan, has had great improvement lately in his behavior. He's not letting Jose and Paloma have any effect on him, he's becoming closer to Chuy, and staying very near me each afternoon, needing reassurance and hugs.

In this small town it does not take long for word to get back to me from the jail 10 miles away. Apparently Joey was so disruptive that he had to get pepper sprayed by the deputies to subdue him. This doesn't surprise me at all. Unfortunately he thinks he can do as he pleases, no one can tell him what to do. If one can't behave in jail, where the officers carry guns, tasers, pepper spray and nightsticks...one has to wonder just what deterrent is necessary and effective for a guy like Joey?

Last year was easily the hardest one ever when he lived in my house with us, very large and raging out of control, pulling down all the light fixtures upstairs in the boys hall, breaking four different bed frames, destroying dressers, light switches, bathroom plumbing, and busting holes in my wall. Then downstairs he broke out the entire back door, frame and all, several sofas and various other items...too many to list, including the Bubba's kitchen table, some chairs, mirrors and TVs.

No wonder, in contrast, it seems quiet now here with just twenty something children.

Paying For One's Crime

Yesterday Brenda in Ohio emailed me remarking, "My sympathies are with you on the bookfair fiasco you had today. I think bookfairs should be banned from schools, or at the very least all the non-book junk they sell should be banned. Do American kids need more shopping opportunities? Why sell them what they could get from the library for free or from the thrift store for 25 cents? Bookfairs seem like just another way to squeeze cash out of parents meanwhile causing such unhappiness and unrest in kids who for whatever reasons can't buy an overpriced book. Schools are for learning, malls are for shopping."

She's a librarian, as was I for 25 years, in the school system we are now called media specialists as computers pulled us away from the books we so loved.

I don't take my kids shopping to browse, to make a wish list...get real. I wish we had money.

This one son is completely embarrassed over this, he did wrong, and he knows it. He doesn't want me to tell his younger brothers and I haven't. I had to give him a huge pep talk about going to school yesterday, holding his head up, learning from his mistake, and serving his time in ISS. That's the right thing to do and he knows it. I talked to him about concentrating on the lesson he learned, turn this negative event into a positive one, please allow yourself to understand that this one event may have saved you from committing a worse crime later one. Learn from it and move on.

He took me aside after school yesterday. "You were right, Mom, I'm fine now, I can handle this."

And on every level, I also know he is acting out somewhat, with his favorite brother gone on a trip, he's emotionally uneasy. If this were totally an evangelical Christian blog with like-minded readers, I'd voice my feelings about the Satanic attacks on my children's fragile psyches, especially after such a positive and uplifting experience as WinterFest, but tiptoeing around, not wanting to offend nor inflame anyone, I'll leave it at that. Many of you know what I'm getting at. Thank you Frank Peretti for your eye-opening verbal illustrations that so explained my world.

On my other blog I wrote about a serious situation near me, I could hardly sleep last night, thinking about this mother and what she is going through, as she publicly got her heart shredded for doing the right thing.

I'm praying for her, for my friend in Idaho who is a heartbroken mother, and two different friends in Atlanta, both traveling to the Ukraine and Kaz (I can't spell it) to adopt older children. I pray that all doors will open for them.

Today's Visit

I blogged here about our all day trip to see Fabian. Short version involves barfing, pre-schoolers acting out, and sweet progress in Fabian.

The bigger picture has been our family's complete group meltdown over the fifth graders. Apparently they are everyone's everything as everyone has been nutso and crying without them, like we'll never see them again. Jonathan literally voicing that fear last night before bed. They'll be home around suppertime tomorrow.

Vanessa finished putting together supper for me that I'd started this morning as everyone clung to me like spider monkeys when I came home. They hate for me to not be here after school, shakes their world to the core. Even my yummy grandson Alexander, pictured here with JoJo, wouldn't let me put him down.

Soccer tryouts again tonight so I ran to the grocery store to pick up the usual. In a small town nothing is fast, you always see people you know, it'd be rude to not chat and catch up, so I finally got through the store, back to the soccer field and scrambling into the house pitching clothes in the washer, checking homework assignments and finishing in the kitchen.

Dadgum, I didn't eat. I'll just eat twice as much tomorrow to tank up again. I'll be home all day long, something I love.

Missing My Fifth Graders

These two, Martin and CW, haven't spent time with each other since early Friday morning before Martin went to Winterfest. CW, now down on the Georgia Coast won't be home until Wednesday night.

Vanessa sent her cell phone down with the boys and they called five times late this afternoon, a little homesick already...heck they left this morning, Martin leaped for the phone, it's free Verizon air time, and he and CW got caught up with each other, next it was JoJo and Allen, finally Chuy, our resident nerd, got on the phone to tell me he forgot to pack a towel. OK smart boy, dry off with a T-shirt.

Edgar just took the remaining kids out front to play meadow soccer before dark, it looks like such a small team for our family.

Swiping a Bookmark

Found my camera, Praise God, it was not stolen, but I just got called to a school as one of my good kids, one who prides himself on not being like his significantly disturbed siblings, just stole a book mark from the book fair. He's not even a reader, he can't explain himself, he's crying hard, and I brought a very remorseful child home with me, afraid I'd now be too disappointed to love him any more.

Hey, son, don't sell this relationship short.

I understand that kids who come from severe lack may have problems resisting the lure of goods. I get that. I need to impart to him the ability to withstand the temptation to just take it, he didn't even need or want it. He's very ashamed of himself, cried in my arms for a long time...we'll get through this. He got two days in-school suspension and he'll learn from this.

His jailbird brother just called me collect, I told him not to do so, he doesn't understand how irked I am at his refusal to act right in the courtroom...he wanted to argue his point. Boy you don't have the right to even think you have a point when you're shackled and at the mercy of the courts. If only I bottle remorse and sprinkle it all over the house, add a little regret, and a great deal of consciousness raising...maybe we'd have more to work with.

I told Mr. Defiant-To-The-Judge to write me a letter, I'll respond. I closed with, "I love you, even when I'm not happy with your behavior."

Now I'm going to go outside and have a garage sweeping marathon with the bookmark swiper. My day seems to be disintegrating.

Off Kilter

I'd use a photo if my camera wasn't missing...

My three fifth graders, Allen, CW and Chuy were out the door at 5:30 this morning, catching a bus for their three day Science trip to the south Georgia coastline, to study marshes. They are so excited, CW and I were up talking at 4:40, this after I hardly got in bed before midnight as the middle and high schoolers had their bus breakdown in TN, making them six hours late to come home.

An awesome trip, Vanessa shed her skin, got filled with the Holy Spirit, that's gotta help her attitude.

JoJo woke up, looked at Allens' empty side of the bed and burst out crying, he was inconsolable for an hour, no way he could function in school today. Martin's first words out of his mouth, "Darn it, CW's already gone?"

Both Paloma and Jose have been worse than awful, first Javy was gone for three days, now Chuy...this birth sibling bond resembles the phantom limb phenomenon. Martin thinks he and CW are birth sibs, but they aren't.

I had a meltdown this morning over Jose's refusal to do anything, I was hollering and carrying on, my son-in-law, Carlos, came in the house just then, checking on me, asking in Spanish if all was well? Did I need help?

Can you heal crazy? I thought, but didn't reply.

Got Tabby enrolled in Pre-K for next year, in my 34th year of parenting I should have some me time while all the kids are in school, I should then have 8-2 to myself, gardens here I come.

Happy Feet

After a warm morning spent weeding a garden, an exercise which inexplicably always lowers my blood pressure, makes me feel better about life, I loaded up the remaining 14 children to see the movie Happy Feet. It was a laugh out loud, it's OK to be different, and it packed an environmental message movie and we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

I'd called a friend of mine, she'd brought her children, and it was a very nice, uncomplicated afternoon...kinda how other people live if I remember my prior life correctly.

There was a scene in the movie where the starring penguin's mother came to him in a dream then melted away, so with a look of huge distress, Nando crawled over an occupied seat to sit in my lap, and cling for the remainder of the movie.

"Baby, I'm still here," kissing the top of his head and reassuring him as he still grapples emotionally with loss. He came home and lost his temper, had a little baby rage, over nothing, but Sabrina returns home today, a huge component of his emotional security.

A Saturday Morning

The owner of an adoption agency and I were talking recently about disruptions in adoption. There are two books, An Unlit Path plus Dandelion on My Pillow, Butcher Knife Beneath My Bed that we believe are must reading before someone enters the adoption world of older children. This will be your reality, or at least some degree of this.

I only have 14 kids here this weekend plus three older ones, Miriam (almost 18), Edgar and Sergi. They do not require me 24-7, as do the other 14....well Edgar is debatable.

It was so quiet last night, the kids were off balance with Martin, Javy and Sabrina gone. All three of them have dominating personalities, I could literally watch CW stop himself from turning to speak to Martin out of habit. Tabby has been awful without her Memaw (Sabrina), in the way only a lost four year old can be. We've snuggled non-stop.

Jose is as nervous as I've ever seen him, asking me the same questions over and over, when the real question is, "When's Javy coming back?" which I've answered several hundred times already.

Vanessa has given me the silent treatment for a week, due to her PMS, probably a better choice than raging, but it sure does take a lot of nerve to be so rude. The rest of the kids have stepped carefully around her, the dark cloud over her head visible to us all, the hissing tongue and rattling tail are giveaways.

I warned the youth pastor to pack his anti-venom kit.

PMS is no excuse, Lord Have Mercy, I've made it through menopause while parenting 39 Demandos...a three day PMS would be a breeze.

Our local dollar theater has five screens, three of them are appropriate for the kids so they've been obsessing over which movie we'll see this afternoon plus also watching the rain radar, knowing that Mama's schedule revolves around the weather predictions.

Before I could hit publish, our phone rang. Up in Tennessee Martin had borrowed someone's cell phone to call home. Awww, how sweet, I was so flattered, knowing he's having so much fun, that he'd remember to call his ole mama, he sweetly told me all that was going on, then, "Mama, let me talk to CW puh-leeze..." Missing his brother more than mama.

Learned Helplessness

Re-reading Dennis Waitley's Empires of the Mind, I see that learned helplessness is a belief that we're at the mercy of external forces and no longer in control of what is happening to us. This is a learned behavior, a choice...one I feel that I've been guilty of making too often lately. I might have caught it from the kids.

Again letting the inmates run the asylum, instead of remembering to see our challenges as opportunities, and our setbacks as temporary inconveniences. We've been down before and we always get back on top. Always, because we don't quit.

Tabby has fussed all day long today, missing Memaw, she went down in a screaming rage over nothing this afternoon, not quieting down until Ray Ray walked in the house, then she must have felt somewhat embarrassed.

Edgar and I talked about going to see a movie while so few kids are here, Grandma said she'd babysit, but his negativity got the best of me, forget it, I need oxygen plus I knew the kids would be acting too weird with the others gone. We were going to see Wild Hogs, watch some fifty-something men act like fools, but heck it'd probably only make me want one for a pet or something. Just kidding, don't need any Men's Rights organizations fussing over that.

Jose who didn't make it to school for the first two hours, fighting with Gito, mad at CW, but the real burning issue involed his older birth brother, Javy, going away for the weekend. Jose actually participated in our "discussion" this afternoon about inapporpriate behavior and responses.

There are only 14 kids here, it's very quiet, leftovers for supper, maybe I should flip on the TV and watch Oprah...Sarah told me she'd never seen the show either...oh yeah, we grew up together, rarely with a working TV, if either of us have free time, we tend to pick up a book or go outside.

Thank you, Larry King

Maybe 15 years ago I was walking on the beach with my brother, Gary, and we were talking about our life goals. Gary is the Director of Olympic Sailing, with a degree from Cal Tech he has parlayed his sailing abilities into a very successful career. He mentioned something about Larry King, and I then did not know who that was.

"Do you live under a rock?" he asked. He travels all over the continents while I dig in the dirt.

Yes, maybe. When you have the emotional, physical and spiritual needs of so many people in your life, then today's pop culture can squeeze past virtually unnoticed.

Would you believe I've never seen an entire Oprah show? I'd like to watch, I've seen a few minutes at a time over the years, but it comes on at 4 when I'm cooking and tending to the kids after school. I could DVR it, but I'm finding I don't have time to later watch what I've digitally recorded anyway.

Last night I did watch Larry King. When my parents moved in six years ago I noticed that they watched him every night, and I got to where I was, at least, interested in who he was interviewing, or maybe more so at his ability to extract a very interesting hour from someone.

Last night he again explored the arena of motivational speakers interviewing a man from The Secret, proving to me that I really must live down a long, long dirt road as I'd not heard of it. I'm now immediately fascinated by it though. I love motivational speakers and writers; I love them with an exclamation mark!

OK girlfriend, it's been on the NY Times Bestseller List, and apparently, all over the TV talk shows. I used to read book reviews for a living, when I was a media specialist, now my free time for that endeavor has been eliminated by default.

I truly do believe in the simple power of thoughts, of positive ideas, and the theory that we can have it all if we so desire and if we take action.I believe that I do have it all, I'm living my dream right now. Yes, I've had some bad times and I've sometimes lost sight of my goals and my happy face, but that's been my fault, not the kid's faults. I'm the one who chose to respond negatively instead of concentrating on the good stuff.

My kids come to me with very negative self-images, and sometimes I allow their attitudes to dominate. My son Edgar, as handsome as they come, can be terribly negative, sucking all the air out of a room, and I usually skip off outside so that I can breathe, when I need to keep teaching him that a good attitude is so much more valuable than his very good looks. No woman is going to want to date a man who constantly whines or complains about everything. Lighten up, son.

A teenager yesterday emailed me from somewhere that she dreamed of having a large family, she'd been reading my blog, felt she wouldn't be too naive, and I totally agree with her. It starts with a dream. I can remember when I had time to go on long walks, when I formulated my plans for our family as it grew and grew, that's when many of my ideas came to me, which is what also happens to me while I garden. Gardening is more than a verb to me, it's a way of life.

Larry King included Lisa Nichols who explained her, "no matter what," principle. No matter what happens, I can deal with it. I was literally responding to the TV, "No kidding, honey! Preach it!" as she continued.

Once again, under the enormous pressure of negativity, I've lost sight of my dreams and goals, that I am living in the middle of each day. Get a grip Big Mama. Be large and in charge, get goofy and happy once again, you've crawled out of so many disasters so far, keep on going now.

And I will do so, I always do.

Calming Down

Monica's gonna have a baby girl, that makes three girls so far on their way. We won't know about Sarah's baby for awhile.

Another calm afternoon, weeded until I felt better about Joey (took three hours of digging), funny phone call from Claudia as one of her beautiful girls must have attended the same charm school as Vanessa.

Edgar just wore all the kids out playing soccer in the meadow with them past dark, they're sweaty and stinky now, barefoor and shirtless like kids oughta be.

These are Alyssa's toes that got painted here the other weekend...

Tough Love Once Again Starts Here

Due to my usual shows of support, I needed to be in court about Joey at 8 a.m....this after getting 20 kids out the door plus Tabby and Nando over to Yolie's house. I hate leaving Tabby and Nando, and they hate it also, I hate leaving good, needy kids to tend to a grown one who really doesn't give a rip anyway. But I went.

Tony had a sling-himself-on-the-floor, crying jag, Paloma burst into tears that her head hurt, and she never cries over stuff like that, and then Jack cried by the time we got to school. His teacher emailed me to let me know to email back and tell Jack when I was back home. Jack has lived with me every minute of his life but due to recent stresses he has been overly clingy.

ALL the kids need to know that Mama is home where they are positive she belongs. Groceries magically appear in the pantry in their minds.

In court, when Joey was lying to the judge, I was shaking my head in disbelief. The judge called on me, I set a few things straight, I'd already motioned for Joey to pull his pants up, his butt was hanging out jailhouse style, he was swaggering and smirking, his Legal Aid lawyer was fighting his Probation Officer's admirable attempts to keep Joey safe from himself and behind bars long enough to earn a GED plus get some mental health treatment...all to no avail it seemed as the judge cut in half her well thought out recommendations.

Joey went back to his seat laughing and carrying on with another inmate (while in handcuffs, chains and shackles) and I stormed out of court before the top of my head exploded. I found a deputy and told him to stop Joey from calling me collect, the deputy told me that Joey had been kicked off two work details because he was out-of-control...tell me about it...and his P.O., Miss Marie, came out of the courtroom to talk me down basically.

That's it y'all. I'm done. I love Joey too much to allow him to think I'm enabling him, or that I support this monkey business out of him. He's making worse than poor choices and I don't want to watch him crash and burn. We can exchange letters in which I'll attempt to encourage him to make wise decisions about his future, but I'm fairly discouraged at the moment.

In court, when Joey even felt he'd won the battle with his reduced sentence...he refused to sign the papers, refused to comply in front of his P.O., Legal Aid attorney, deputies and the judge. Simply refused.

I just don't understand.

Joey thinks his inmate buddies are all on his side while mean ole mom is on the judge's side. Duh, YEAH I AM. I am on the side of law and order, good choices, and right versus wrong.

In the van I called Sonny who was on his way to work just to tell him how much I appreciated his many good choices over the last few years. He's made very few mistakes, he's learned from them, he's a good, good kid who loves his mama and loves his family. He had tons of strikes against him, much like Joey in regards to his early years, both of them came to me in their elementary grades, yet Sonny has a huge heart, a helpful spirit, and a winning attitude, and I wanted him to know how much I appreciate that in him.

Garden Time

OK, I'm better now, four solid hours of weeding out in the big garden, watching my skin turn brown and crinkly, wrinkl;, my hands look like I'm 100 years old but real women don't wear garden gloves...

Adoption 101

I don't even know if I feel like blogging today. Maybe a bad mood like this should be indication enough to just go outside and weed a garden. I get so tired of continuously trying to make a better life for my kids, and getting hatefulness in response. I give of myself 24-7.

IT'S NOT MY FAULT WHAT HAPPENED TO Y'ALL IN THE PAST. I'm just trying to give you love, a family, and to provide for you.

Why can't your resentments be aimed where they belong? Not internally, nor at me.

I know that this is part of the adoption process. I know that, but it is still very difficult to live on a continuous diet of it.

Words

Words mean so much to me. The words I hear from my children mean the most to me. One daughter, Saray, soon to be 29 years old, living the farthest away (except for Jesse), just emailed this to me. It strengthens me when I seem to be up against so much.

"I just want to let you know that whatever you are going through it will get better; I know that our lives are so busy, but we don't really spend our time sharing how we feel; well, I am thankful that you brought us out of poverty and I lived my life to remember how bad I had it. Without your love, I probably would have been dead and I would have never had my three beautiful children and my awesome husband. I just want to thank you for being such an awesome person and most of all a great mother to all 39 of us; even those who give you crap one day will realize how grateful they are to have you as part of their lives; I have heard so many things that you are going through and I am saddened by it bc you dont need all this hatefulness; I know I have been part of it too but I want to apologize for it; I want to better myself and my life.
Love,
Saray"

I cannot tell you how much this means to me. I rarely hear stuff like that although I do get hugs, kisses and the "I love you, Mom" all the time around here. Cooking dinner tonight, Deysi's son, Alexander, came tearing into the house. So excited he was teetering, gave me a big hug and ran looking for The Bubbas...this is the stuff that keeps me going.

This I Know

I have a hundred pictures like this, because these two brothers, CW and Martin, are always like this, bonded like cement, they've spent more than eight solid years as best buddies, confidants and brothers. Much like Joe and Jesse years ago except CW and Martin almost never squabble.

"I am still determined to be cheerful and happy, in whatever situation I may be; for I have also learned from experience that the greater part of our happiness or misery depends upon our dispositions, and not upon our circumstances." {Martha Washington (1732 - 1802)}

Written several hundred years ago, the words still ring true for me. CW told me of a dream of an assassin who attacked our family, trying to destroy all we’d built up. In his dream Sonny saved the day, protected us all. I want to know why a 10 year old even knows about assassins, I keep him so over-protected, he’d just done a World War II report and had been fascinated. He’d awakened his super-best buddy-brother, Martin, to get reassurance in the middle of the night, they were talking about it this morning. Scratch the surface though and you’ll see every child’s deep fear of life not remaining the same. How Freudian is this? Thank you Dr. G for your many insights and teaching me over the years.

"A strong positive mental attitude will create more miracles than any wonder drug."
{Patricia Neal}

I reassured CW that all was well, we talked about which flowers are now blooming, bloomed at the same time last year, and will bloom again each year, what we’d eat, and all the other constants in his life.

"Human beings, by changing the inner attitudes of their minds, can change the outer aspects of their lives." {William James (1842 - 1910)}

This is something I’ve tried to impart to everyone. It’s all we can control, and it’s something I’ve had to battle against myself lately. This is when I drag out all my motivational books and pump my deflated self back up.

Pastor Tracy has always preached that people don't care how much we know, they wanna know how much we care. Same thing is true for my children, if they had their way we'd all sleep in one room, Mama in charge, Mama handling everything, standing guard at all times...Honey child, that's what God is for, He has us in his hands, this I know.

Someone recently suggested that I had too many children, that I might do a better job with less children. I've always maintained that there is too much of me to go around, it's good to have me diluted.

Yolie chewed on that and decided to write a guest blog:

"While I certainly do not speak for my entire family, and the number of children is high, I have witnessed on an almost daily basis the love and affection given to each child. I have seen miraculous turnarounds in some of my siblings as they go from not wanting to be touched or hugged to being cuddlebugs and telling Mom that they love her on a daily basis. Of course, there are bound to be very difficult times in any family. It just so happens that in a family our size, those difficult times are on a bigger scale than that of a "normal" family.

I view mom's decision to adopt me and to continue to adopt as a gift from God. If anyone reads her blog carefully, they will notice that she is very clear on her love for her children. She gets hurt, she gets angry and (as she is HUMAN) gets very frustrated with us sometimes, but all I ever see at the end of it all is her hope and determination to help her children as much as she can. I, too, consider myself "normal" right now. I have a happy life with a great husband and child. I know, though, that if I choose to adopt one day, my life will dramatically change.

As an adoptive parent, you deal with issues, anger, rage, sadness and so many more challenges that ARE NOT YOUR FAULT. My mom is the target for so much hostility and that is not how most "normal" people live. I can say this because I have been one of the ones who has targeted her in the past. I was mean, hurtful and bitter toward her without any regard for how she must be feeling. I was so wrapped up in being angry that I never stopped to think that she indeed loved me. Now, I know that not everyone in my family is on good terms with my mom right now. Out of 39 kids one wouldn't expect everyone to be happy all the time. The question is, though, are they unhappy with her because of something she did to them, or because of something they did to themselves or was done to them, which she had no part in? What I wish everyone would consider is that when our lives here on Earth are done, as we our taking our last breaths and looking back on all we did for others and how we treated people, will we be happy with our contributions? Will we have spent more time being angry or making sure we said our piece, or will we have spent our time being positive and uplifting to people who are going through a difficult time? I know I will forever regret the time I spent estranged from my Mom. When I look back on that time, I wish I could have it back. Personally, I just don't think it's worth it to be mad at someone all the time. And in the end, I think the vast majority, if not all of my family, even if they are "mad" at my mom for something, know that she loves them. So, if someone loves you, why waste time...she will not be here forever and I hate seeing her be dumped on so much.

As a fomer adoption caseworker I know the difficulty in getting a family to adopt a sibling group. In my personal experience, I was on the verge of being separated from my brothers, which would have devastated me for the rest of my life. If my Mom had not shown up, willing to adopt all three of us, my fate would have been worse than even I can imagine. After us three, my Mom adopted larger sib groups, all of whom were (in the adoption world), extremely hard to place groups. Should she have just sat there, as God was telling her to move forward, twiddling her thumbs and hoping someone else would parent these children? I think not. She chose to parent, and in exchange, chose to live a difficult life, but she will be the first one to tell you what she would do it all again because she loves all of her kids and thanks God for them every day. What more should be asked of a mother?"

I cried when Yolie sent me this today, I was on my way out the door, with a grandbaby on my hip, for a DJJ appointment, soccer applications in hand, thinking, thing, and thinking about my day; what to do first, how was Sonny getting to his job? Did I have enough groceries?

I needed to have my back patted by Yolie today, out estrangement back then was very, very brief, I regret our wasted weeks also, I'm just glad and grateful that she and her siblings came into my life and stayed. We have eternity to look forward too as well. Indeed Blue Cross sent me a note today calling Daniel "my natural child"...something I've always claimed.

Go Read Claudia's Entry Today

Claudia's post today is a must read for us adoptive parents and all social workers.

A Meaningful, Yet Hard, Life

I write this adoption blog for one reason only, not to entertain, or to show my goofy, comical side; but merely to let it all hang out, warts, resentment, pride, bitterness, joy and happiness for one reason only. That reason encompasses the real world in the adoption of older children. Not an easy world, and I want other adoptive parents to see our good and our bad because I want to help prevent disruptions.

Disruption in adoption, when the kids are returned to foster care, is grievous and heart-breaking. It usually occurs after the new parents have tried absolutely everything...EVERYTHING...and it boils down to the survival of the family. Period.

I've received a huge number of emails from other struggling adoptive parents thanking me for sharing our trials and tribulations, and for encouraging them to hang in there, to see past the issues into the beautiful hearts of hurting children. Children who were damaged by the system, by abuse and neglect through absolutely no fault of their own. And then to see my grown kids in marriages, colleges, good jobs and nice places to live strengthens these parents to not quit when all is dark and dangerous in their world.

That said...I disrupted not once, but twice. I sent Joey back to Texas seven years ago when I could find no more help for him here, when he was kicked out of schools and therapeutic places, the only available option then was the San Antonio State Hospital and I beat myself up emotionally for years after that. What more could I have done? What signs did I miss? He was a LOC 5 when he'd moved in, I'd been warned, I'd been told of his anti-social nature, yet I wanted to help...if nothing else I hope that his birth brothers Tony and Martin will benefit from the early intervention and resources I've found for them.

Another disruption occurred in the first three weeks of a placement 12 years ago when the lone sister in the group detailed sexual abuse that had happened back in Texas. I was at an utter loss.

So I share these disruptions because I know they happen, it happened here as well. I know how much it hurts us parents and the children. It is awful, yet necessary at times.

But I've not disrupted on everyone else who spewed out their rage, their anger and their issues. I've lived with it and loved them. I've loved them through the lies about me, the damages to my house and the ugliness that they've dumped on me. I still love them. I still love Joey and I always will.

In every case, I was the only person who submitted a home study on them. If not me, then they'd have shuffled through foster care until age 18. That is a fact. Maybe I'm not much, but I'm all there ever was.

I only blog about 1% of our family events and I try to balance the good and the bad. I dearly want all y'all other mothers to keep on keeping on, I use my older children as encouragement to you because I'm proud of them and am glad I didn't fold because they were mad at me. It's not about me.

My mother, afraid that all this resentment here will send me to the hospital again, stated this week, "Cindy when you've done all you can, then that's all you have. If they don't accept your love, I just don't know how to tell you what else you can do. You can only keep offering it up to them."

I'd be lying if I did not share my own struggles with bitterness, resentment and tears. This is hard, I am a human being, I hurt. I give, give, give and the payback sometimes seems to be less than zero in that it is so painful. I don't want other mothers to feel that something is wrong with them because they feel so agonizingly down at times. I don't want to falsely portray this life.

I am usually Sally Sunshine, at times...when the hits just keep on coming...it's hard to get back up, but I will.

A therapist told me last Monday, "expect nothing in return," and she's so right. And the truth is, there's nothing I want. Nothing but their happiness and success as adults for them.

So I apologize if this blog does not entertain. I write it for all y'all mamas who despair at times, who are so sad, beat down, and frustrated, and who simply just want to quit, I want all y'all to know just one thing...it is worth it in the end, all our struggles and hurts are for a good reason. We were each chosen to love our children. I greatly appreciate the letters and the comments that I receive from y'all, you strengthen me as well.

I was telling Cristy the other night, "I enjoy the sacrfices, it makes my life worthwhile." My life has purpose and meaning; I live deliberately for the meaningful existence that my children have given me.

Citrus Blooms

Things that make me smile would include the lime tree in my bedroom that has two huge blooms, inordinately fragrant as citrus is known to be, there are thousands of cut flowers in my house right now, and we are so, so close to permanent warm weather, two cold nights forecast but back to the 70s this week. At 31 degrees this morning the tomatoes in the greenhouse were fine, big test of their stamina tonight though.

My Bandwagon

To be so skinny, it may seem contrary that Sarah and I seem to obsess so much over food. She's a chef, I garden to ensure wonderful produce, but the bottom line for both of us is more over our concern for great health and abundant energy, even after a tough year, we're trying to come out on top. We both consume a lot of food, yet it is always good food, high fiber, low fat, nutritious and delicious.

My own mama is the same way, she's had a compost heap and a garden all my life, I remember both sides of their parents, all my Southern grandparents, growing food also. Sarah, like both my grandmothers and my great granny Miller, is such a capable cook. I cook, but not so joyfully as all of them. I'd rather be outside working.

When Yolie was a very young teen, she'd allow me to work outside all day Saturdays, before Daniel was old enough to hog the day for Little League, the Biggers would tend to the house, hanging out with each other, and Yolie would bring me cheese enchilladas with Vidalia onions outside, I'd sit on the ground, chow down, and proclaim them to be the best I ever had, my mouth is watering now in remembrance of them.

This morning I read a great article on local foods, quoting one of my hero's Joan Dye Gussow, whose book, This Organic Life: Confessions of a Suburban Homesteader, made such an impression on me a couple of years ago.

Sarah has eaten locally, organically, and mindfully all her life because I raised her that way. My other kids came out of the foster care system, raised on white bread and kool aid, seeming to crave refined sugar, yet years later leaving home, eating crappily only to notice in their own health, how much better they felt eating "Mom's Way," drinking lots of water, no meat and thinking about fat grams and protein counts. Sarah just finished reading The United States of Arugula: How We Became a Gourmet Nation

Organizations such as Locavores fascinate me, I don't have to agree with any left leaning politics, duh I am such a Republican, but if we don't all jump on our planet's side, it's going to tip over, and spill us out into nothingness.

How 'bout this guy and his opinion on rampant consumerism, he who once helped fuel that passion, now understanding the emptiness of it? I LOVE reading and hearing about people on a mission.

Life is too short to be wrapped up in Britney Spears, American Idol or even my favorite, Desperate Housewives...y'all we gotta eat, gotta feed the planet, and take care of the earth for our children and our grandchildren. I owe it to Alyssa, Ray, CJ, Tommy, Blanca, Baby Yolie, Mauri, Courtney, Alexander, Isaac, Heidi, Gianni and the four that are also on their way into our family. I've spent decades teaching good nutrition to my kids, a love of food production, and I want to continue that into the next generation.

Ray's Birthday

Sarah, being the birth child, has borne her unfair share of resentment over the years by the children who don't understand much. Let's lash out at the two women who care about us, Mom and her birth child.

But it's crossed a new low this past week, and in an effort to protect Ray from attitudes, we were wishy washy all week about plans for his birthday. Why give anyone a chance to crap it up for Ray? Last year Sarah and Preston were too deep in grief, right out of a week long stay in the hospital when they'd lost Bailey, looking into the face of a baby who did not live is beyond devastating, unbelievably tragic, and it's been hard for them, and for Edith and I, the grandmas, to get over that night.

So I didn't much even mention plans, since we hadn't firmed any up anyway, even to the children who live here. Today Sarah made two delicious cakes from scratch, bought a Wal-Mart pinata and just showed up. No plans, no expectations to be dashed, and Ray, therefore under no pressure, had a blast. His birthday was three days ago anyway, a leap year baby.

Yes, it has occurred to me that this too isn't fair, that a three year old should be denied invitations and plans for a party, but after living under fire for 20 years I am unwilling to set Ray up to be dissappointed, nor his parents. Glad about Sarah's pregnancy, both Preston and Sarah are different people now after what they suffered through last year, a tinge of sadness, there were other losses after that one night last January, it's been a very hard year.

So Ray had fun, we were under no pressure to perform, there were no meltdowns, no drama, no problems.

I wish we could have had a big shindig for Ray, but we've learned some bitter lessons in trying too hard. Remember we never even mentioned my birthday last year, why give the kids a chance to ruin it? Experience has taught me that issues escalate when I'm trying to have a good time.

I really only have faint memories of being normal...