Let the Fun Begin

Starting right before Thanksgiving and usually ending right after Christmas, the holidays stress out my kids in a very big way. Holidays in birth families were never fun and usually involved alcohol or drug abuse by the birth parent(s). Fond memories are not made of this. The media cranks up every kid's expectations way beyond what a normal parent can accomplish much less a marginal parent. The children were not put into foster care without the investigation substantiating the abuse or neglect. The kids haven't made this drama up, they lived it. They fear it and just can't easily accept that life is better now.

So not only do I have to spend all my time reassuring children that we will have fun, gifts and food, I also am faced with some horrific ghosts of their Christmas pasts.

Scotty has not had a Christmas with us yet so he went down squalling tonight, lashing out at his birth sister, Sabrina, who was taken completely by surprise. He cried all over the living room until his face was swollen.

Jojo kicked another hole in the hall wall, Joey was unbelievably oppositional and Vanessa was screaming like a shrew on crack at Edgar because he dared to enter her room to hunt a video case. With her still snarling I loaded up 24 kids in the bus.

Jose fell apart on the two mile trip to church tonight. I have 13 kids in the Christmas musical this Sunday so we had a dress rehearsal tonight and we will again Saturday afternoon. Jose was screaming and crying out in our bus where I left him with Edgar so I could referee the rest of the kids. After 20 minutes of getting nowhere Edgar was tagged by Sonny who accomplished getting Jose out of the bus. Jose then fell apart in the sanctuary, blew snot in ten directions before getting a grip and getting on stage for 20 minutes.

Another friend of mine, herself with a large family, mentioned that their Holiday Hell had continued for the entire year. Jeepers. We usually do come out of it within the next 26 days or so but maybe it is so intense here that they exhaust themselves and are unable to stretch it out all dadgum year. Here's hoping......

20 Years

Maybe 20 years ago I broached the subject of adoption with Sarah (seen here apparently arguing with Jack). I clearly remember talking to her about maybe adopting a five year old girl, maybe 7 or 8 years old since I worked in the school system.

She bought the idea and 38 kids later we are both still convinced we've made all the right moves in adding to our family despite much bumpiness along the way.

Back then I had totally no idea that Sarah also would act out somewhat in a bid for attention. Everything I've learned has come slowly and way after the fact. I used an adoption agency in Atlanta in the late 1980s and ended up in Honduras with three new daughters. Now I'm Abuelita (grandma) to 4 of their babies; Alexander, Gianni, Heidi and Isaac.

I loved being the mom of four kids and soon became the mom to eight children including a dear sweet son, Sergi.

It goes on and on obviously but when I saw this picture I just had to laugh.

We call it "getting sucked in." Whenever an innocent, unsuspecting bystander gets involved either sarcastically, annoyedly, self-importantly, in a mediating or ANY other way into a stupid ongoing argument they have then gotten sucked in.

I got sucked in 3 times on the way to The Ranch Sunday night and EACH TIME I didn't see it coming. Edgar pointed it out all three times. Heck I didn't even know I was sucked in it when I was in it.

Sarah is sucked in here. Probably about the use of a serving spoon or the ingredients in a dish or something equally unimportant. She has the exasperated look of a sucked in victim while I'm amused and prideful that I didn't get sucked in also. Jack is the proudest for having sucked her in. Hands on hips sucked in victims rate the most points for the person who succeeded in sucking them in. Also sucking in a much older, supposedly smarter person is more valuable.

The Bubbas can, and do, suck everyone in on a regular basis. They taught Jack at a very young age the finer points of sucking someone in.

It is insidious and impossible to avoid. It is constant, irritating and funny at the same time. No one is immune to it. The Bubbas often don't quit until you are sucked in. It is inescapable to the infinity degree. That infinity phrase usually provokes an argument that will soon suck someone else in.

We call it progress if the sucked in person realizes they are sucked in before someone else has to point it out. It's not a badge of dishonor to be sucked in, its a way of life.

Joe, Jesse and Sergi were the original suckers. They always unintentionally sucked the Biggers in to their stupid disagreements. Back then though we didn't realize, nor totally understand, the phenomena of getting sucked in. The Bubbas made it a true sport. One that has created self-imposed cheerleaders and referees.

Nosey people are always sucked in first. We are a family of nosey busybodies so the suck in sound is loud, like a whirling, wet, squishy sound. You only hear it after the fact though.

Guests are an easy suck in target. The rest of us ought to know better but we don't.

It'll happen 50 times between getting out of bed and getting out the door to school. Not one of us will see it coming, we may recognize it possibly and extricate ourselves from the fracas only to watch another person who should know better get sucked right in.

There is no remedy for this, it is our affliction.

But they can most assuredly suck you in too.

Sonny and Gianni

Arrivals

I have 13 kids in the upcoming church Christmas Musical this Sunday. A couple of my children, Sabrina and Paloma, have small speaking parts. Scotty, this being his first musical, is a little frightened. Sabrina, along with Jose, Martin, CW, Allen and Chuy, also have a 4th and 5th grade musical later that same week.

I don't know why Sabrina and Scotty are easier to parent than many of my other children. Scotty is emotionally very high-maintenance but that I can handle. So far, nearly a year later, Sabrina has remained very even-keeled. Again I think it is the older sib syndrome that I write about all too often. She's happy to be a social butterfly now and not a pseudo-parent. She gallivants around with Mayra and my granddaughter, Baby Yolie, who is the same age as Sabrina.

Sabrina, aka Memaw to Tabby, didn't just dump Tabitha in my lap and run off to play. She still cuddles with Tabby which Tabby needs, but Tabitha spends all day with me and very quickly transferred her dependency onto me. Tabby still asks me every single day after Sabrina goes to school, "Memaw in school?"

Five years ago Edgar physically withdrew quicker from parenting Jojo and Allen but he soon returned and took on more of a coaching role than a parental one. Edgar has been very supportive and instrumental in helping Fabian recover from his issues.

Scotty is less dependent on Sabrina than I originally thought. Scotty needs constant verbal reassurance 24-7, he's affectionate yet anxious most of the time. He is already questioning next years Thanksgiving holidays. Will the same people come? Will we eat the same food? We are about as regular as they come so it is fairly easy to reassure him. But here comes Christmas....

Their adoption has been finalized and I received Tabby and Nando's new birth certificates since they were born in a different state than Sabrina and Scotty. Scotty keeps asking me when will his new birth certificate arrive. He overheard me talking to my brother, Jim, when the others arrived. It's not like we make a big deal over either finalization or birth certificates. It's been my experience that if we make a big deal then we just instigate acting out behaviors. We do tend to celebrate the anniversaries of arrivals into our family.

Scotty's arrival date was March 8th.

Just because four new children arrived here and acted like this was a perfect fit doesn't mean that they don't have fears. They never talk about their foster parents nor their birth parents. That's odd. It's been my experience that children need to talk it all out. I rarely seek out therapy for kids in their first year of placement. I believe that they need to settle down first, the issues come out when they feel safer and more secure.

Although this has been a seemingly easy placement my antennae is still up for what needs to be tended to, this hyper-alertness gene that has helped me parent all these children stays in overdrive.

Batteries

The absolute singular way of keeping a battery in place here would have to involve super glue. Since that would soon render the object useless, we gotta think of something else.

I try and get up 15 minutes earlier than the kids. I can click on the TV, get the weather and maybe a few minutes of email or online news while I guzzle coffee. It is much easier to face 25 kids each morning when my brain has engaged inself. Caffeine helps.

Not only were the batteries missing but so is the remote. I can't find it anywhere but, big whoop, since the batteries are probably missing as someone hourly removes them to power up something else.

Just one of life's little annoyances but placed against the big picture of let's say children needing families, I can live without the batteries.

Thank God no one messes with my coffee.

At Least

Daniel signed me up to participate in even more paperwork, about 25 pages for a study at UGA. He gets extra credit and I do extra work...but there is a $15.00 stipend...Lord knows we need the money.

I heard a ruckus in the family room. I knew that 15 year old Vanessa had been wrestling 16 year old prissy Miriam all over the family room but, apparently Joey decided to break them up. Miriam had Joey's 200 pound self in a headlock on the floor, Vanessa had crunched Edgar up against the futon. Women rule, men drool.

I wouldn't embarrass Edgar and Joey by posting a picture. They claim that they were just being gentlemanly but my girls, though small in stature, are mean as snakes, strong also.

Miss Emily told Lily and Tony's class to go to bed early as the whole class was tired today. That was Lily's version. So I put all the elementary kids to bed early only to have to break up a football game in the Bubba's room.

10 pounds of pasta for supper, you'd think everyone would be full, tired and would be sleeping like bleached whales but the decibel level down the hall demonstrates otherwise.

At least everyone's in a fairly good mood tonight although Mayra's thumb, wrist and lower arm is now in a hard cast.

Gina...send more pix

Gianni caught in the act of tattling on Tabitha who'd squirmed out of her overalls since Thanksgiving afternoon was so warm. I don't care if it hits 80 degrees, my rule is stay in what I put on you that morning.

Fernando's First Family Thanksgiving

Gina took yet another beautiful picture.

ER Otra Vez

After church Edgar took my van and Joey, Fabian, Gito, Miriam, Vanessa and Mayra to play flag football with our youth group in the Turkey Bowl which took place at a park several miles up the road.

I stayed home with the remaining 16 kids and moped about since my brother, Jim, had left that morning. Post holiday letdown.

I'd rather have sacks of leaves than diamonds and gold. Sonny is great about stopping and gathering up people's raked and bagged leaves which he then spreads all over my gardens. His girlfriend is out of town and Sonny had been raking and bagging up her mom's leaves for me. Sonny made two moms really happy with this endeavor.

However his truck broke down and Chuck, as usual, came to the rescue.

We now have 3 non-functional 1980s trucks and 3 other 1980s broke down cars in the front. At least nothing is up on cinder blocks.

Around 3:30 Edgar called to tell me that apparently Mayra had broken her thumb, it was flopping strangely to the side. Knowing I'm medically challenged and car-less he suggested I get a grip, get my pocketbook and he'd be there to pick me up in three minutes. I, at least, had the presence of mind to tell him to bring Miriam to stay with the kids while I was in the ER.

Indeed it was broken right on the growth plate. Yuck. Pastor Geoff had told me he'd get my kids home after the tournament so I, alone, held Mayra's hand while she yelped as they maneuvered it back into alignment before setting it. This witty doctor, knowing I'd just been there five days earlier with Joey, quipped that my family alone had so singlehandedly guaranteed his job security.

Fabian was 30 minutes late back to the Ranch but full of himself since I gave such a great report of his behavior at home for six days. I wasted my breath but nonetheless spent the ride re-explaining for the ten thousandth time that I didn't actually "give" him a good report but that he had "earned" it and when he figures out the empowerment principle, he'll be a huge success. In five months so far I am mightily impressed with how far he has come and I never hesitate to tell him so.

Had a great talking and listening time to Edgar on the trip home. He'd probably not even be embarrassed that I'm telling that he fell asleep last night on the sofa with his head on my shoulder by 10 p.m. He's a mama's boy and fairly proud of it. I woke him up and sent him to bed while telling Marcela good-night on the telephone.

Next thing I knew it was 6 a.m. and time to get some very ornery children to school.

A Connection

"Los Angeles Police Department
LOS ANGELES — Three hospitals acknowledge putting discharged homeless patients into taxicabs and sending them to the downtown skid row area, the Los Angeles Times reported.

Representatives of Hollywood Presbyterian Medical Center, Kaiser Permanente West Los Angeles and Martin Luther King Jr./Drew Medical Center said they were helping patients because skid row offers them their best chance of getting services and shelter.

"One of the challenges is that there are very few places that will take patients coming out of the hospital, even when they are medically cleared," said Mehera Christian, a spokeswoman for Kaiser Permanente Metro Los Angeles. "There are just a scarce number of places in the community to assist our homeless."

Police say the skid row neighborhood generates roughly one-fifth of the city's drug arrests."

A teacher from our wonderful school system emailed me her thoughts the other day about what I was doing with my kids and the fact I was teaching them selfsufficiencyy.

Since Thanksgiving and my house guests took a lot of time and energy, I have just been mentally chewing on what she had said but when I saw this article a light bulb went on in my Lady Clairol blonde head.

I don't have her permission to use her name but it is important to know that she's taught four of my children and has nearly 30 years of teaching experience. Basically she pointed out that in my own way I was teaching them how to do stuff their ownselves. For example, all the building, homesteading, gardening, and food preserving projects that we always seem to be involved in. She suggested that in doing so I was giving the children something new in their lives. I was giving them control, something that was in short supply in the foster care system.

To me, this also goes along with the above article and my usual soapbox of foster children aging out of the system having never been adopted. Often I grieve over the fact that I have so little time with my children and so much left to teach them. When a child arrives here in their early teens (Deysi, Cristy, Jesse, Edgar or Carolina) I would only have five years...if there were no other issues involved. Five emotionally intense, often traumatic years as they attempt to begin to learn to trust me.

Teaching simplistic emotions like love, affection, trust, and empathy takes an inordinately long amount of time as we have so much more to overcome first due to the abuse, neglect and abandonment. I have to teach responsibility, accountability, a work ethic, religion, manners and even personal hygiene. They need to know about personal finance, the big picture in their lives, education and an on-going relationship with this new, yet forever, family.

I simply do not have enough time. We can't sit in a circle and learn all this. I suppose that being involved 24-7 with my kids, yapping while we tend to chores, build stuff and get involved with sports has helped to cement us together. My kids also have the benefit of learning from the older children through their mistakes and successes. Our church adds another layer as does the school.

Even having a child move in at age 5 or 6 doesn't seem to give me much more time as we still have to overcome horrible early childhoods. Sometimes the youngest children in a sib group are the most difficult as they were protected in many ways by the older sib. After an adoptive placement the older sib "sees" better, sees that I will tend to the parenting that has so burdened a child, sees that I will pay the bills and buy the groceries and not expect that child to be the babysitter. That older sib then is free to be a kid, to play sports and attend activities. The baby sib sometimes feels abandoned yet again and there is so much work for me to do in that case.

This same teacher has also pointed out to me, "Your kids are learning that they can effect their environment, that what they canÂ’t do, can be done by someone else in the family, and that somebody always steps up to do it eventually. You are building personal responsibility and a level of confidence that so many kids donÂ’t get." WOW. Now I am impressed with myself. This is something I guess I am trying to do but didn't realize it was getting done. When you live up to your eyeballs in issues, you often wonder if anything is getting through their heads.

This morning at church my friend, Beth, told me she reads this blog everyday. I appreciate that. My kids don't listen to me half the time, they rarely, if ever read the blog. They check to see if they are in it and we might discuss what I wrote about them.

I appreciate this teacher's feedback and anyone else's for that matter. I often can't see the dock for the all water but I need to. My friend, Emily B, has always been able to pinpoint with accuracy what I'm deep in the midst of. Such as the last two sentences ending with a prepositional phrase. What a no-no.

Princessa Tabitha Ruth

Last August

Gina is emailing pics today from an old roll of film apparently but since we miss Jesse like crazy, this'll have to do for now.

The Joy

Gina took this picture of Ray Ray wallowing in the meadow.

Pent Up Emotions

We had a beautiful Thanksgiving. Great food, huge family and tons of love. However for my children there is always the deep seated fear that this will not last. Why trust it? Just because Big Mama and her brothers have been close for 50 years doesn't mean squat in the long run for them. Right? That's the fear. Although Jim, Gary and I reassure them through example, words and deeds it has been their experience that good stuff cannot possibly last. Even though Big Mama's grown kids, their husbands, wives and the grandchildren come over constantly...my other kids still hesitate to allow themselves to believe that it can be their future as well. Slowly, ever so slowly, after many years, trials, heartaches and reassurances everyone starts to believe.

However nerves are tense. My boys are affectionate, polite with company, gentlemanly even most of the time. Last night though Fabian and Joey had a wrestling match all over the living room, never hitting, always laughing, sweating like pigs and releasing their pent-up fears and emotions. Then Joey and Gito, then Edgar and all the Bubbas.

I simply couldn't resist tackling Edgar when he was off-balance because eight Bubbas were all over him. Cheap shot but I got him good and the Bubbas hollered with glee. "Mom got Edgar! Mom got Edgar! Y'all should have seen it!"

Loud choruses of, "Go Mama! Go Mama!," brought everyone else running and laughing towards us. Martin got the action shot of ten year old Allen appearing to dominate Edgar.

Edgar, always fairly gentle with the Bubbas, sure isn't going to risk hurting me. However, with his manly reputation at stake he did find it necessary to pick me up and toss me across the room onto a bed. Beds bounce so I was back up in a flash and it took him several more attempts to prove his point. He certainly is much stronger than I.

The Bubbas give me more respect now.

Mauri, Ray and Jack

Jack was supposed to keep an eye on Ray out in the meadow on Thanksgiving afternoon. Gina caught him doing a great job at it.

Gary, Mary, Kelly, Katie and Caroline just drove away for their 500 mile trip home. It's just been five minutes and I miss them already. I just don't get to see them enough. Jim is still here for another day Thank God.

Chuck's Thanksgiving Photos

Imaginary Friend

Whenever you "meet" someone on the Internet it's just not the same as if they lived down the street from you but over a good many years I have gotten to know the mom of this beautiful Idaho family.

We've exchanged countless emails full of commiseration, concern, consolation at times and empathy while we travel down the same road 2,000 miles apart. Thanks to cell phones we can talk but it's difficult with 66 kids between us. So we email and answer each other when we get the free time without a billion interruptions.

We've shared the same great Texas social worker(s) at times and she even ended up with a sibling group of five children I'd initially been getting my homestudy in on, but then I changed to a sib group of Georgia children. I'd have wondered and worried about those particular children had she not adopted them. How cool is that?

I'm grateful to have her as my dear friend.

The Need is the Call

Years ago Bill Wilson of Metro Ministries spoke at my church. This was maybe 5 or 6 years ago when Joey had even less of a brake system regarding what unthinkingly flew out of his mouth on a regular basis.

Bill Wilson has built up a massive Sunday School ministry in the rough areas of New York City. He still drives a bus to pick up the children. That was the only part Joey heard and he went up to Bill Wilson after the service and only asked questions about the bus.

I remember being massively embarrassed because our pastor at the time called me up in front of the congregation to pray over the service and Bill Wilson's ministry. I am a Back Row Baptist, a Methodist Preacher's Kid, now Church of God member and I don't like to speak up at church. I just don't.

But what I got out of the service versus Joey's Blue Bird Bus Service, was one line...The Need is the Call. Period.

We can anguish over feeling like we don't audibly hear God's voice. I know that used to be an issue for me. One night at a Mylon Lefevre Monday night church service at Mt. Paran Church of God in Atlanta, I heard Mylon preach that eventually we will know God's voice as clear as if he called us up on the telephone. I know that now. It took me a couple of decades to gain that confidence but I know it now and I have for quite some time.

An aside: If I lived in Atlanta I'd be at Mt. Paran COG every time the church doors opened. Dr. David Cooper was my pastor in the 1980s and taught me more than I ever could have imagined. Back then i had no clue how much I would later need all that I learned then. Convoluted sentence but very true.

A dear friend of mine now is getting an international adoption door rudely slammed in her face and I know that her heart is right with God. Another family I am working with has had several years of failed adoption matches each time in the most heartbreaking manner. Another family will take special needs babies, of which there are many, but Medicaid fails, foster parents change their mind about parenting or, worse yet, the child passes away without ever finding that waiting family.

I have worked lately with several over-qualified families and the adoption workers stall, get tied up, bang their heads against the judicial system, quit, go on leave, change case loads...you name it...the kids wait, great families yearn for the kids and we at Adopt America Network feel like we are stuck in a nameless gear.

I encourage all my families to hang in there against incredible odds. I hope they can at least look at me, not a great model of patience but certainly of persistence, and not give up. Success is always there, IF one doesn't give up.

The need, to me, was all the waiting children. I was positive God had called me. I was right. However God didn't call me past where I am now with the number of children in my family. Now God has clearly called me through AAN to match those waiting children with these wonderful families. Again it will be through my sheer, unadulterated, annoying perseverance. I'm also the cheerleader for the Don't Give Up High School of Adoption. I will match all my waiting families with waiting children. I won't give up. I will make sure that they don't either.

Thanksgiving Morning After

I think there were around 70 people here yesterday but Sarah said I can't count the nursing grandchildren since they didn't eat. I was merely attempting to count people.

The pictures aren't great at all. Most are blurred but there was a lot of action. The kids all ate good, acted good for the most part and the day turned out to be beautiful, nearly 70 degrees so they could run around outside.

Chuck had his camera on a tripod and took great pictures of crowd shots..wish I had them.

The first picture here is of Yolie and her best friend Audrey. Audrey has a blog that I'm fixing to link here with mine. She and Yolie majored in social work at UGA. Audrey chose the DFACS/ CPS job and she is awesome at what she does. Her blog is refelective of that and we, as adoptive parents, need to know this. Audrey and I got to talk for awhile yesterday and her perspective is, of course, different from my very limited view. Talking to her, or reading her blog is as interesting to me as watching Cops on TV.

This was the first Thanksgiving for my new kids and they were great. After 20 years of adoption adjustments during holiday times it is gratifying to know that I am on the tail end of traumatic "firsts".

Sarah made a vinaigrette that made me swear off bottled salad dressings for life. Saray and Marcela were eating it off my plate as they overlooked it first time through the line. I must have eaten five platefuls. Carolina made pupusas which were gone in a flash. Yolie made THE peanut butter fudge recipe along with ten pumpkin pies.

Of all my kids, 11 year old Jose, struggled hard with his emotions. It was his first unmedicated holiday but he did remarkably well.

I had bought a new stove last week, but cancelled the purchase when I got one of my older stoves working. However it exploded from overuse and wouldn't turn off so I burned a pot of rice. After I'd gone to bed last night I again smelled something burning. I came back downstairs to find Joe, Joey, Gito and my sister-in-law, Mary, in a smoke-filled kitchen as it had turned itself back on. We have unplugged it and ruefully I am remembering my dog's year philosophy regarding major appliances. What would last for decades in another person's house dies much sooner here from overuse.

I have both my brothers here for s few days along with 3 nieces that I just don't get to see enough as they live 500 miles north of here in Virginia.

The kids are waking up this morning with smiles as they still have three more days of no school and some wonderful leftovers to eat.

Now the pre-Christmas stress hits me. I don't even want to talk about it.

Thanksgiving Morning Coffee

I simply can't start my day until I have downed a pot of turbo black, thick unsweetened coffee. No one else in our family even wants to drink my sludge. This is also when I usually blog, something I can snap out in ten minutes each morning...kind of a notes to myself thing, hopefully offering some feeble support to other adoptive parents who also struggle with these adoption-specific issues.

I was up until 1am last night, something I never do. I can go all day without stopping to eat but I truly need 7-8 hours of sleep each night in order to function at my best. Marcela, Vanessa, Daniel and I stayed up waiting on Saray's family and my brother, Gary, and his family.

I slept in until almost 7 this morning which is also unusual. When I came downstairs Mayra was valiantly trying to keep everyone's collective volume down as Saray's three babies were asleep.

Paloma is wanting to boil over as is her bio brother Jose. Last night Chuy and Jojo were awful. Jojo collapsed into a loud rage just because I said it was suppertime.

Not only is it often Holiday Hell but bright me scheduled Joey's adoption worker's visit at 4 pm yesterday while we were in the midst of marathon cooking and cleaning. Then her boss, Emily, who is my best friend, came by with pecan pie. My children, after all these years, do not get that Emily is THE head honcho, that she is the social worker of all social workers. She was the original social worker of some of my children. But, most importantly to my kids, she adopted five children so she is just someone's mom to them, someone's mom of children like them even.

Yolie is baking ten pumpkin pies for today. Marcela and I did the math, thought about it, and attacked Emily's pies last night before Thanksgiving. Oh My Goodness! Who needs Thanksgiving now? I've already had the most wonderful pecan pie in Georgia! (Sarah, please excuse the exclamation mark...and the fact that I should have shared these pies with your pregnant self)

Today Yolie's best friend, the best county DFACS worker on earth, is joining us for Thanksgiving once again. I'm going to ask her permission to link her blog here as I devour it each day. My kids don't know that Audrey also is a CPS worker. I double-dawg guarantee you that one of more of them will make Audrey feel like she's at work this afternoon.

Daniel has a friend's web cam and we were video-chatting throughout the house yesterday but we, singularly and as a group, are genetically incapable of not acting like dorks on camera. Around midnight Daniel was trying to connect me to my friend, Claudia. I was making all sorts of wonderful, immature faces into the camera in order to impress Claudia but we couldn't get connected for some reason. Probably because she lives so far north of reality. Minnesota must be next to Mars. Daniel pointed out that Claudia would be able to hear my Southern cutting up and to tone it down before i embarrassed him. I'll try again tonight to be goofily me on camera after I feed nearly 70 friends and family members today.

If the Atlanta Falcons lose though Daniel will probably connect me to their head coach so I can annoy him instead.

Hide and seek

Last night at supper with 18 sons and very few daughters for different reasons, Daniel pointed out that it was unusually even more loud than possible. He was trying to charm Alyssa into eating her pasta through the sweet grins she was directing at him.

After supper my 13, 14, 17, 18 and 19 year old sons went outside to play hide and seek. Yes, at their ages. They've done this often, just blowing off steam in the dark, laughing and horsing around. There is less to break outside when you tackle someone.

An hour later they come running in. Joey had tripped over a railroad tie and banged his eye on its corner when he fell. The eyeball was intact, the swelling commenced, and there was general nastiness involved. Even being the parent of 21 rough and tough sons, I don't do the medical stuff well. My mom came and looked at it for me but even she recoiled so I was barking orders, commands and rules as I grabbed my pocketbook and flew out the door with Joey. Fabian and Edgar went with me for moral support.

We have a small local medical emergency facility within 10 miles of our house. The nurses were amused to see us again. Joey even admitted to playing hide and seek. He put his 200 pound self on the examining table and cut up with the nurses.

We'd prayed on the way there that Joey's eyeball and vision would be fine, that it just looked worse than it was.

The doctor confirmed he'd be OK, he had scratched the white part but it would heal just fine with antibiotic eye drops, ice and ibupropen...but it was gonna look pretty bad for the holidays.

After Edgar scooped me up off the floor where I'd hidden from the grossness of all this medical stuff, the nurses laughingly said, "Well Cindy, let's hope we don't have to see y'all again before Christmas."

To which I replied, "Honey, I just hope we don't have to come back before Thanksgiving at this rate."

Back home all the kids swarmed Joey, crawling all over him, checking his injury.

Now it's the next morning, the day before Thanksgiving and he didn't swell as bad as I feared.

If anyone needs me, I'll be in the kitchen for the next 36 hours..........

Blooms

Our high temperature might reach 50 degrees today. That's really cold for a Southerner. Fortunately stuff blooms inside all winter. Unfortunately I didn't get my geraniums inside in time.

Ready for Thanksgiving

I could be working on getting the house clean for Thanksgiving except one brother just IMd me that he wouldn't be here until 10 pm Wednesday night. Why clean now so that 23 bookbags will come flying in the door and trash it back up?

Scotty is taking his first family Thanksgiving very seriously. He's decided that the family room is his responsibility and he keeps diligently working on it. He's getting aggravated though. As soon as he is happy with the way it looks, someone has taken off their nasty socks and tossed them up onto the ceiling fan or left a plate on a coffee table or, worse yet, strewn their stinkin' shoes every whichaway.

CJ came over for awhile and Tameshia just called to ask me to watch Alyssa. All the kids will drop everything just to entertain her. She is one hilarious little girl.

Yolie is working on ten pumpkin pies because last year she only made eight and everyone was hollering that they didn't get any. Joe's worrying that Grandma didn't make a layered carrot cake from scratch (she did) and this very sweet neighbor of mine, Mr. Chris, is bringing over some turkeys for us. Grandma is the only one who knows how to cook birds so it's up to her...I'd pitched a hissy fit yesterday at Wal-Mart over the price but Chris called when i got home with a turkey gift for us.

Tomorrow I will cook all day ,in between feeding 25 kids three times a day ,plus my own non-stop grazing.

I've heard from two teachers this morning as my children's agitation increases. Those children who've been here for a decade or so are excited. If they've been here between 5-10 years they are worrying about allowing themselves to get excited, and if it's been less than five years we still have full-blown apprehension.

My four new kids, a fairly well-balanced group of kids, are doing very well in comparison. Tabby turned three today so Grandma and Pa just took her and Nando out for awhile. Tabby is Queen For A Day today.

Sarah, Yolie, Vanessa, Joe, Carolina, Grandma and I will do the cooking. It'll be a huge spread, Daniel and Preston will be glued to the Falcon's Game. The kids will spill everything and I won't care.

I will feel gratified that we've put another family holiday under their belts, put another brick of security and stability into their lives, and we'll do the same next year. My young kids have been antsy lately and will greatly benefit from the five days home without the school pressure that they seem to ignore so successfully.

Then...here comes the Big One. December 25th.

Money

It was so my fault and I admitted it. If you don't periodically go on-line and sign in to an automated account, they'll charge a $6.95 inactivity fee. For two months I didn't do what I agreed to do and they charged me like they said they would.

I just drove up to the bank this morning and threww myself on their mercy for $13.90. Thank God for small town banking.

I got my $13.90 back and took myself off that stupid plan.

Turning Out Well

Mr. Ed and Chuck holding Alyssa


Someone wrote in my comment section, "How did I do this?" in regard to raising some mighty, fine upstanding sons.

I'm not really sure and I'm also so not done. One son, Jonathan, age 7 had to be nearly carried into school this morning and I'm certain Miss Regina, his teacher, will have her hands full with him today. Here come the holidays and with it...the Issue City off-ramp emerges and overflows.

Joe, pictured here with his lovely daughter, Alyssa, was once way more than a handful. It would take a very long blog entry to detail his school suspension, detentions, and arrests. But, not once, did I ever accept his lame, convoluted excuses for his misbehavior and poor choices. One of his birth sisters, much later, told me very harrowing details of Joe's young life in the barrios of El Paso. How the birth mom would dress him up in thug clothing and take him on drug deals. He was exposed to the depths of Hell at a very impressionable age. Then me, a Church of God hillbilly, adopts this ornery 8 year old and may I say it...I was CLUELESS.

Joe and I butted heads for a decade or so. His issues with females were legendary. Yolie, his other birth sister, was right there with me in the trenches the entire time, every single second of every ordeal that he put us through. His baby brother, Daniel, exhibited none of Joe's penchant for trouble. Daniel was initially standoffish, reserved and unwilling to trust but he soon followed Yolie's lead. Yolie appeared to trust me so he figured he might as well also. Daniel always made friends with the grade-grubbers and the over-achievers. All of his friends came from great families and Daniel always made me proud.

Joe loved Daniel and Yolie in a huge way which was his saving grace. Daniel emotionally withdrew from Joe for years but they have since grown close again. Yolie grieved for years over Joe's self-destructive ways. Joe eyed me suspiciously for a long time. He'd be very angry as I'd refuse to bail him out or offer help when he was involved in negativity. When he played football, had school events or church stuff I'd be on the front row cheering him on, explaining to him over and over the concepts of tough love, accountability and responsibility.

Now Joe's a dad and Joe's a great dad. He's over-protective, he's nurturing and so loving to Alyssa. Alyssa is a cocky, self-confident little replica of Joe in many ways.

Pastor Anthony, one of Joe's youth group pastors and Mr. Ed, a former boss were instrumental in many ways by showing Joe the love he craved, but, more importantly, the accountability that he lacked in his life. Joe had some state champion football coaches also that made dents in his hard head. He knew that no matter what, he still had Yolie and I to face. A police officer friend of mine, Officer Mike, also worked on Joe. My son-in-law Chuck and his father, Charlie, were very dedicated to getting Joe through this life alive. Joe was one tough cookie. I cried, prayed, yowled, hollered and loved this angry boy through the mountains and the valleys.

I called him last night after Miss Lisa told me how much Mr. Ed had enjoyed seeing Joe at the church festival. Joe told me that he'd told Mr. Ed that day how much Mr. Ed had taught him about a work ethic. Mr. Ed employed Joe at Joe's very worst time in life. The teen years when I doubted there was a brain cell awake in that big head of his. Joe was AWFUL! He brought down his brothers Sergi and Jesse through his bulliness, deceit and dumb ideas. Mr Ed employed all three of them and somehow survived. He probably should have fired each and every one of them every single day they showed up. He actually kept them on for years. I wondered often if he put up with them just because he was my favorite pastor's brother-in-law? Whatever the reason I sure was grateful, still am to this day. Joe, Jesse, Sergi, Marcela, Gina, Yolie, Saray, and Deysi all worked in the restaurant also. Every single one of them adore and respect Mr. Ed and his wife, Susan.

Susan's sister, Miss Lisa and her husband Pastor Tracy have been here for my kids as well with love, attention and firm discipline in Children's Church. My kids respond well to consistency and the fact that I've known many of our family friends for decades. That concept was markedly absent in birth families as my kids suffered through countless moves, losses, faceless people in many ways and less than zero amounts of stability.

One pastor years ago said out loud that he and his wife knew that their kids would never take drugs. That kind of confidence floored me as I had been a wild PK myself. However this man turned out to be correct. They had two kids 13 years apart in age and both kids grew up to make their parents proud. Was this a self-fulfilling prophecy or great parenting? I don't know but either way it worked and I greatly admire that.

I'm gutsy enough to proclaim that all these former foster children now adopted by me will all turn out well. I believe this for many reasons. I don't quit. We have very positive peer pressure, we're very supportive, affectionate, ego-building and complimentary of each other. We all have an enormous personal stake in this family of ours and there is help from so many resources for us. We will still have many problems and challenges, there'll be times (like last week) when I'm in tears but we will pull through together..

I truly believe that God gave me each of these particular children for a reason. My goal is to help my children understand that as well.

Sweet Sons and Expectations

Fabian, Gito and Edgar had their picture taken last summer before Fabian went to The Ranch.

This morning at church Miss Regina told me she'd caught up on her blog reading. Since she's Paloma and Jonathan's teacher, she kind of needs to be aware of their issues and what's going on in their lives. She's hyper aware, if anything, with a huge amount of discernment into their behaviors. The two kids know that they can't pull anything over on her as well. They know she has their number so to speak.

I believe that Fabian also is going to be a success. Because this is my belief, and oft repeated around here, it eventually becomes tattooed into their brains. The Biggers (Yolie, Gina, Sarah, Cristy, Marcela, Deysi, Carolina and Saray) have told me it's like a recording in their brains where they hear my voice over and over in a loop.

Whatever it is, so far it has worked. I expect my kids to succeed in whatever endeavor they choose. Those who want to and are willing to do the work involved, go to college, others get jobs and two have joined the Navy...no one is floundering as an adult and, for that, I'm thankful.

There's family group pride as well. There is a fortunate lack of jealousy, rather there is group pride in everything. Older kids go to cheer younger kids all the way through soccer games, younger kids go to the older kids games and we claim all wins as if we'd personally kicked the tie-breaking goal.

Awards are shared and honors are participated in group-wise. What one person does reflects on everyone else and, as such, there is positive peer pressure.

When there are losses, such as that of mama Daisy, everyone gathers around to support the others.

When there are births, marriages, deaths, problems, challenges, events and holidays I know that I'll have the support and the presence of my children and grandchildren.

More importantly, my kids know that 38 other kids are emotionally and physically there for them, good and bad, the tough times and the happy times.

Sweet Sons

This is an older photo of Edgar, for some reason the newer ones wouldn't load this morning. After being at the UGA whomping of Kentucky last night, Daniel really wouldn't appreciate me waking him up for help.

But that's what my blog is about this morning. Daniel would get up and help if I asked. This is where I need to be respectful of my son's desire to please and not take advantage of it constantly.

Yesterday Joey, Edgar and Sonny were still working on the concrete chunk walkway. I was with them, showing my appreciation, heck it was a Saturday afternoon and they could have gone to the game or have been off with their friends but they chose to help me instead without me even asking. They grew up watching their older brothers also help Mama.

I was out there also admiring all the garden beds that Daniel built years ago with the 4 X 4 's from the old pool decking. I was remembering how many loads of dirt, bales of hay and tons of wood chips that Joe, Jesse and Sergi had hauled for me.

Maybe it is because I am single, maybe it is because my sons are Latinos, but whatever it is, they have a deep love for me as their mama. When Joe was in his mid to late teens he struggled hard emotionally through his mama issues. Having his birth mom reappear was devastating but now that we are on the other side of that upheaval I can say that we are all the stronger for having gone through it.

Mother issues in adoption are primal. I go through all this with my girls also in a much more severe way. On the one hand, my daughters will crawl in my lap, squall and carry on like girls where my boys, burdened down by all that testosterone, hit that emotional mama wall with a thud.

I'd say my sons are openly emotional...we are a very emotional and verbal family who doesn't hold much in. If someone has something to say, everyone hears it. But that mama stuff contains a very deep wound within. It's the old, "If my birth mom didn't want me, why would this mom still want me?" played out over and over. It is up to me to not get tired of this routine and to keep pouring myself out into the kids.

Last Sunday afternoon I sat between Daniel and Edgar on the sofa laughing and cutting up while Daniel ranted about that weekend's UGA loss. Monday night Edgar uncharacteriscally detonated. Daniel hugged me while I cried about it when Edgar slammed out of our home. I cried to Marcela about how that made me feel like a failure totally forgetting that I was committed to this very predictable routine. It hurts when you're in the middle of it. Joe pulled it off in a very big way during the weekend of Sarah's wedding five years ago. I don't even want to re-explore that turmoil right now.

By Tuesday of last week Edgar was home apologetic and ready for amends. He's been affectionate and loving and glued to my side basically. We both paid a 20 hour price for it though. 20 hours of me worrying that this was going to be another long episode of estrangement, him worrying that I was really angry at him. I can not reiterate enough my relief at such a short period of alienation.

My niece called me last night as she'd been trying to catch up on our week through the blog. She was utterly shocked that Edgar had gone through this. It was as unlikely as a polar bear dancing in the rain forest. I didn't even mention him by name last week, just his age, but he's read the blogs and I have his permission now.

Many years ago Daniel, then age 6, wouldn't let me kiss and hug him. Why get attached to yet another caretaker? Within a few years though, he'd sit in the Lazy Boy chair with me claiming his emotional and physical attachment. Allen took five years to become openly affectionate, Chuy is on his fourth year where he still pushes me away but has verbally stated his love. Good thing I can take the rejection. I know the lifelong benefits that come with me hanging in there for the long haul with my children.

Now that I have grown children who have the awesome ability to attach to their children and raise them in an emotionally healthy manner, I have the strength to continue going through the push pull procedure here.

I have 21 wonderful, strong sons and I am blessed to be their mom. Someone puh-leeze remind me of that the next time we are in the midst of the pain required in growing up, letting go, and coming back. I'm the first one to need encouragement when I'm struggling with my own feelings during these tough times.

A sidenote: I use the word "adopted" here in my blog mainly to encourage other moms who have adopted their children and are going through the turmoil. However here we don't use the A word. These are my children, not my adopted children. I'm proud and glad that I adopted 38 out of the 39 of them but the emphasis is on children not adopted children. They don't introduce me to people as their adoptive mom...I'm their mom and they are my children. We were put together through the privilege of adoption but our commitment together as a family is cemented through our eternal love for each other.

Dancing

With Martin taking dance lessons as part of an etiquette program and me being naturally exuberant we turned the kitchen into a dance hall.

Joey can jitterbug as good as my mother can.

All my wrestled down sofas breathed a collective sigh of relief as all the kitchen tables and chairs were scooted back.

Seeds of Change

If I could only get one catalog, this'd be it despite the fact that it isn't Southern. The entire concept of heirloom seeds and not losing our proven, productive varieties to hybrids intrigues me.

I received their new catalog yesterday but pictured here is from last year.

Another of my goals is to eliminate the use of hybrid seeds from my garden and to save as many seeds as is possible. I used to be so intimidated by what I'd read in books and magazines since I do not have a horticultural university background. I've since learned that it IS as easy as the authors and gardeners all claimed. Easier actually. Apparently I'm a slow learner as I've been gardening seriously since age 18.

My friend, Dottie from high school ,majored in horticulture and taught me a great deal in my teens and early adulthood. Looking back, maybe that should have been my college major instead of education and instructional technology. In the public school system I'd stare longingly out the window of my plant-filled office and yearn to be outside on a tractor bush hogging the fields.

When we were in our early 20s Dottie worked at Busch Gardens in Williamsburg. I got to visit her after hours at work and see how plant production and maintenace was run and I was fascinated. Before I had so many kids, I'd go outside directly after work and stay until dark every single day. As my family grew I had to squeeze in the garden hours and search for ways to increase production while decreasing work time. I look forward to the next 50 years of benefiting from that concept. I still work all winter hauling manure, wood chips, keep making compost and trying to plant green cover crops and when spring comes I am always rewarded, in an amazing way, by the colossal amount of perennials and self-sown seedlings that explode everywhere simply due to the supremely rich soil.

Getting older and being busy beyond belief 24-7 has resulted in fast seasons for me. Although my favorites like spring and summer fly by, so now does fall and winter. We had out first frost two nights ago but by the end of January I'll have crocus and daffodils. Literally, like clockwork, my antique daffs bloom by Jan 31st even if the weather sucks.


The minute my least favorite, and most stressful, holiday Christmas is over (noon December 25th) I haul off the tree to rot in the woods and I drag out my florescent plant lights to start my seedlings. Nothing spells springtime quite like that particular activity.

Duh, of course this is therapeutic for me but I also am encouraged at the number of kids who are involved and enthralled by plants. Once hungry and neglected children realize that there is a feast of delicious foodstuffs all around us, they are hooked on this concept. Plant a blueberry (fig, strawberry,raspberry, blackberry, etc...pick one's favorite) and enjoy a lifetime of supremely delicious delicacies? What a concept.

My enthusiasm and utter love of gardening is contagious here at home. I read aloud a comment from a gardening magazine once which stated that gardening is the only activity in which you can sneak up on the participant and find them smiling alone while working. How true for me.

Accountability, Responsibility & Discipline

Although he was in court on a felony theft charge, my son, Fabian, made me proud. We could have hired a lawyer and gotten his charges reduced, or maybe even dismissed, but what would that have taught him?

Before court the probation officer outlined his recommendations for punishment and told Fabian he'd most likely get it all, including 60 days in a juvenile facility...possibly some of it suspended, community service, fines, and fees for probation.

He was asked how he wanted to plead and he immediately replied, "guilty."

This being juvenile court the judge asked him over and over if he was sure or if his mother had coerced him in any way into admitting guilt. He was even told he could have a public defender with or without my consent.

I just sat there next to Fabian and let him decide and choose his answers.

He again refused an attorney and pled guilty.

Interestingly enough the judge suspended all 60 days and the monthly fee for probation. But since Fabian also admitted stealing a $90.00 power cord he was assigned restitution costs as well. There is a local grant that will allow him to earn $5.25 an hour to go directly to restitution.

Over my years in the public school system I saw parent after parent hire lawyers for their kid's speeding tickets and make many other attempts at reducing ,or eliminating, the consequences of their kid's negative actions.

I've personally had enough kids make bad choices that got them each in a heap of trouble. I'll be there and love them through their troubles but the consequences are theirs. I mean good gracious how will kids ever learn to behave? Are we molding a society of monsters that think they can just do any and everything that strikes their fancy?

Though I was ashamed that Fabian chose to steal something, I was proud that he admitted his guilt ( a first very big step) and that he'll now do what it takes to make this right.

Take Down Day

Every whichaway I turned this afternoon, I tripped over a spontaneous wrestling match. I even found Scotty, Jack and Nando in a pile attempting to take down Sonny.
Prissy Miriam (16) jumped Vanessa (15) and the two of them rolled all over the family room shocking the Bubbas until they realized that both girls were giggling. Mayra kicked a soccer ball down the hall with Sabrina while Tabby rode a Barbie scooter through the house. Gito, not too brightly, went up against Edgar. Allen and Jojo went at it all over their room. Tony, Jonathan and CW were spinning all in a pile while Chuy trolled Ebay for his birthday present. He wants Nintendo 64 games. Finally the noise sucked him into participating in the rowdiness.

Everyone is fair game but don't even try and take me down unless you are very sure that you can...

I'm thinking it's all the pent-up emotion coming out. Tending to Deysi, Saray and Marcela was pretty emotionally wrenching for the boys and they just gotta let loose.

It's cold outside but we don't have the heat on as the heat being generated from their sweaty, roaring events would power a small city. I'm seeing boys flip over the sofas, roll down the hall and jump out from behind doors. They are all laughing and running their mouths big time. Big ole Joey is standing in the hall monitor position with his arms folded across his chest just in case any of the matches turned sour. Wasted his time actually as the snicker-giggles grew into hysterical hoots of laughter.

I just got an email from the regional adoption coordinator who said that the newspaper had contacted him trying to track us down about that Thanksgiving article. Gosh I'd have to stand all the furniture back up first and make the boys stop having fun...not worth it.

Nobody would ever adopt anyone if they saw my silly boys blowing off steam like this. The birth rate might plummet as well.

We do have rules though. No hitting is ever allowed and watch out for my houseplants.

Thanksgiving Preview (Turkey Safe House)

It was cold this morning, kids scrambling to find sweatshirts and I had a 7:45 a.m. breakfast with my second graders at school.

A reporter had called the school wanting the last name of the big family there so that they could do a feature at Thanksgiving. The school let me know but didn't give out my name.

I always have very mixed feelings about publicity. Yes I'd like to get some positive attention but I'm never sure that I should do so, so I don't. It makes me nervous I suppose. Like holidays aren't stressful enough? I need a photographer snapping pictures of the emotional meltdowns? Deysi, Saray and Marcela are still weak with grief over Mama Daisy, Marcela spent last night here with us again.

We're not the Waltons.

We are a loud, rambunctious, goofy beyond words family full of issues that are always in various stages of recovery.

It won't be a really big table with a big fat dead bird sitting all greasily in the center. It'll be 6 large tables with the extras spilling out onto the deck, the porches, the sofas and the counters. It'll be ten tons of food, wonderful dishes cooked by everyone and a mess of grandbabies showing off and keeping the other kids centered on a family holiday.

Hopefully all kids will be distracted from previous holidays in their birth families where the centerpiece consisted of drugs, alcohol, lack, neglect, abuse and abandonment. Sometime though the holidays bring it all back up and the children are consumed with fear and dread. As the years go by the kids who've been here a long time seem to forget the past and remind me obsessively of every detail from last year so that I'll make it exactly like they remembered.

My brothers and families will be here as will grown kids and grandkids. I'll be cooking my brains out, squelching squabbles and trying to listen to my brothers. I haven't seen Gary in a thousand days as he is always in Europe or Asia. He grilled oysters Rockefeller for me on his dock the last time I was at his house, June 2003. I'm gonna return the favor and cook him 12 pounds of pinto beans. Gary cooked me my first Mexican meal in the early 1970s when he came home from college (Cal Tech) in Pasadena. Jimbo, my baby brother, who's also a wonderful cook will be here. He's goofier than me and the kids adore him.