Joey, Joey, Joey

I've posted a record number of blog entries today probably because it's too cold for me to play outside.

Joey just let me know that he thinks there is a warrant out for his arrest, that he pushed (maybe assaulted?) a staff member at the homeless shelter, that he's on the run about 30 miles north of here. He was actually IMing the Bubbas, who called for me to come to the computer, so I "chatted" with him. He claims he's staying with some gang members...wannabees maybe in that small podunk town...and that he has messed up pretty badly. Big ole DUH.

I kept suggesting that he try and undo his wrongs, that he contact his P.O. and set his life straight, but to no avail. The people that he is staying with supposedly know he's on the run, makes me wonder about their lawfulness.

This will likely not end so pretty for him. Makes me sad.

Disorientation

Now that most of my family, and probably Kevin's sisters, who read the blog, are disoriented...everyone going, "oops, need to call Lauren," and wondering about their own payday, I might as well post a summer picture the day before our impending snow event...that is often a bust. I don't think we've even seen snow in a couple of years here.

Kathleen: A Guest Blogger

Kathleen from Indiana emailed me the following that I've posted with her permission in an effort to get this out there.

"I was looking at something else on a Family Life Today site and ran across their Hope for Orphans ministry info: www.familylife.com/hopefororphans/Check out #3 on their “Myths of Adoption” page: www.familylife.com/hopefororphans/four_myths.asp (I quote it below in the comment I left for them.)I encourage any of you so inclined to leave them some input yourselves:

www.familylife.com/about/contact.asp

Here’s what I wrote:Ran across your adoption info as I was looking at something else. Along with promoting an orphans ministry, you REALLY should promote a ministry to families who have adopted, particularly those who have adopted older children. There is a dearth of resources available to these families. Those resources that do exist may be expensive. Respite care is hard to find. Out of home placement costs a fortune, but is necessary at times. Your statement “3. “Adopted children probably have many emotional issues I won't know how to handle.” Reality: It's true that some children who have had traumatic experiences may have an increased chance of having emotional and behavioral issues. But the truth is that any child, adopted or biological, may present these types of challenges. Any hurt child, whether adopted or biological, desperately needs a Christian family to help him navigate through his difficulties from a biblical perspective.

You might feel a certain child is beyond your ability to handle, but if you remain available to how God might want to use you, He will equip you to raise any child you are obedient to bring into your home.”is way too simplistic. Although God may equip you for the journey, that doesn't mean that you won't be traumatized through the process. It doesn't mean your adopted child will ever be able to function as a normal individual. Older adopted children are typically damaged and some will never experience normal attachment to their adoptive parents and siblings. Such older adopted children may bring things to your house that you would never have dreamed of - sexual abuse (not just memories and after-effects, but new acts), bedroom door and window alarms, locks for matches, medicines, and knives, and more.What sort of equipping prepares you for that?

While I applaud your ministry and heart for orphans, please do not stop there. Do everything you can to support these families after adoption. These families need respite care, they need people who understand the behaviors these children present (because often to outsiders, the children are superficially charming and cause the parents to appear angry and hostile), and they need training and support in dealing with the behaviors of their children.

Try these locations for some real insight into family life with adopted children with issues major and minor:http://thebodiebunch.blogspot.com/index.html http://fletcherclan.blogspot.com/index.html
http://adsg.syix.com/new_forum/ (my posts are those by Kathleenb)

Also google Nancy Thomas and read some of her materials.I am a Christian, married, bio mom to a 17yo daughter & a 12yo son, adoptive mom to a 19yo son, 17yo daughter, 16yo son, and 11yo son. We adopted them over 7 years ago. I know without a doubt that God chose each of these children for our family - yet my husband and I try to avoid thinking about the question "Knowing what you do now, would you do it again?" I know that NOT adopting these children would have been an act of disobedience and yet... There is no excuse for the fact that my adopted daughter has RAD and treatment for it is not covered by Medicaid, and there is only one provider within our state anyway. She has been placed out of our home for the last year, and not even her biological brothers, who are very close to her, are willing to have her return home to live.PLEASE - expand your orphans ministry to deal with the very real problems that MANY of us face after adoption."

Great Stories

Becky, commenting on my Eat Plants post, (where Dr. G smarted off in a very Southern manner in the comments) inadvertently sent me off on yet another tangent, surely my favorite aerobic exercise, just by mentioning a book title, The Botany of Desire, which led to different green blogs which pointed to this cool family that I remembered featuring in my blog once after they'd been in a gardening magazine.

Being I'm a conservative, Republican I don't always fit in with the leftist leaning environmentalists, but if they'll overlook my opinions, I'll do the same with them. As long as their money and their performance is where their mouth is...as mine should be also.

Besides adoption blogs, personal finance, simple living, true crime blogs, the farming/ag and keeping our planet clean blogs appeal to me as well.

This family was on 20/20 as The Cheapest Family on Earth.

I adore and admire people with a passion such as this lady.

Wrong Song Ding Dong

Good Move Slick. This is not February 1st, your retirement check is not in the bank, and it is NOT Lauren's Birthday. I operated all day yesterday on the erroneous assumption of the date.

Jeepers. The kids have finally gotten to me. Mommy Brain.

Mi Guapito

I have no idea who took this picture, nor who took my camera to a store with them, I'm guessing it was Miriam or Vanessa, Edgar's sidekicks. I'm just happy that he prefers the company of his sisters, as no less then a thousand girls seem to call his cell phone each day. "You have stalkers," I'd hooted at him the other day, noticing he doesn't ever call any of them.

I call him, Mi Guapito, my handsome one.

I have 18 beautiful daughters that I compliment as well. Why wouldn't I? Looks aren't everything, I don't ever want them to try and get by just on their looks, but I do want them to feel self-confident and comfortable in their own skin.

Sometimes I look back at our blog. Remembering last spring and the pressures I was under with my Big Mama Boot Camp, several teens in trouble with the law, one huge event I still haven't blogged about since it hasn't yet been resolved, nearly a year later.

Both my parents have now read An Unlit Path, having lived here with us for five years now, feeling a different level of comprehension and, maybe even, appreciation for my struggles. They were raised to point out what is wrong, conversely I've learned a strong sense of optimism and positive expectancy on my own, and that is what I believe has allowed me to stand strong through the turmoil.

Due to the new blog, I'm getting new readers, new adoptive parents, shocked and appalled at what they seem to be facing, some reading way back into my blog, probably scaring themselves silly, and wondering how I can still make a complete sentence anymore after the onslaught of last year's surgery, sons in jail and YDC, kids unable to function in school, rages and police here at home, court dates, psychological interventions, and seemingly, a constant battle against all odds, it really was just about the toughest year ever but we 're pulling through.

Even though my children have had to pay the piper for their craziness and poor choices, every single one of them has learned that I won't enable them to fail, that I truly do love them, and that I'm in it for the long haul.

As I overheard a Bubba say the other day, "this ain't easy, greasy."

It's A Coming

Possible Ice, Snow Heading Our Way

ATLANTA -- Better bundle up and stock up.

A wintry mix of ice and snow is in the forecast for this week.

The National Weather Service said in a release Tuesday that a storm system could bring winter weather to much of north Georgia on Wednesday night and Thursday morning.

The official forecast said it will be so cold that "precipitation that develops during the pre-dawn hours Thursday should be in the form of light snow or sleet."

After that it will get even worse.

A winter event, such as this, is a great deal of fun in our area. We so rarely see frozen precipitation that when it occurs, schools close, all sensible activities slam shut, we, unprepared, inexperienced Southerners all, run to the grocery store, and we automatically slide sideways into ditches, genetically unable to drive on frozen surfaces.

Today is only a half a day at school anyway so the teachers will have high-strung, out-of-whack kids, and not just mine for once. Even the teachers are usually unable to control their excitement, whispering in the halls to the other teachers, back-slapping each other in anticipation.

By this evening there'll be no bread nor milk anywhere, on any store shelf, in north Georgia.

But we're battling that bug that is rampaging through the kid's immune systems. Chuy, usually reserved and quiet, busted out crying last night in the middle of supper, said his head was killing him, took off running to his room, Paloma right behind him complaining about the same symptoms.

The full moon, 4 roosters and snow excitement woke me up at 4:30 this morning, several kids have already shuffled down the hall to ask about the weather.

The bad news is that we ALWAYS lose our electricity. Always, without fail, and then the snow fun turns to sullenness.

Happy Birthday To Lauren

Words generally bubble out of me like a fountain...or a cesspool, depending on the circumstances, but today I'm speechless.

My darling niece, Lauren, is 18 years old.

I could go with all the, "where did the time go" pithiness but that doesn't do it justice, I'm simply shocked that the baby's grown up, and will soon head off to William & Mary. I don't even want to get into the, "we did that with Ellen" stories, I'll save them for summer and tell Lauren.

For now, Happy Birthday Beautiful! We love you! The exclamation police allowed me to express my excitement what with this being long distance and all. Lauren, you are awesome and I am a blessed woman to be your aunt.

Eat Food. Not Too Much

Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.

That, more or less, is the short answer to the supposedly incredibly complicated and confusing question of what we humans should eat in order to be maximally healthy.

Today's Big Duh.

My vocabulary seems to be shrinking down to that one lame response and for that I apologize, but honey, all I see are the big ole Duhs surrounding me.

The bigger emphasis here should be on me reading a Yankee's newspaper...all the credit goes to Dr. G, and his influence on me. He's a hoot, a Phillies fan, transplanted down here with his British wife, both of 'em talking funny.

Mayra, Lily, Sabrina and Javy all fell apart on me this morning. I would have thought this to be a group fake-out, but the middle school nurse had called me yesterday, telling me that a virulent virus, a misnomer perhaps, had spread through the school.

JoJo had another crybaby hissy fit at the breakfast table because someone looked at him, so he's sitting in the hallway time-out...ya think you get to watch cartoons? Lord have mercy, son, if you don't know me by now...

Jose wanted to have his own emotional shut down, plus a rage, but by then I had that look in my eye, and for once, he knew better than to even press his luck...I think he made it to school, he left to catch the bus but as I looked out the big window, I could see one of my smarter dogs, ears cocked, looking intently down the hill like all might not be well.

We are so out of groceries, my dad went to Wal-Mart for me yesterday just to grab 6 gallons of milk to hold me a day, but I gotta go to town or there'll be no supper.

We'd made a big ole skillet of cornbread, Edgar growling at everyone, because there was none left for him, I think I'll make twice as much tonight and a spinach, three cheese lasagna.

Did I say "a"? I meant to say 5.

Perugino Chocolate

I don't put a lot of thought into blog topics each day, what comes out is it. So much happens here constantly, even on calm days, sweet stuff like the entire bar of Perugino Italian chocolate from Ms. Carr that I ate in one sitting, or her taking Tony shopping plus overseeing Tony's buying shoes for Jonathan and Scotty as their toes were stinkily poking through the old pair. Tony with my debit card, I can hear the shudders from family members.

I got a two minute call again from Daniel, now happy with Basic Training because they're busy, he hated the earlier 'hurry up and do nothing' mentality.

Jose has been increasingly difficult for several weeks now, not getting along with anyone, and even refusing to do very small chores, that's OK son, I'll let them all pile up for you because you can rest asured, you will do them.

I'd gotten an email with questions about chores...if everyone here will given me 10 minutes a day, we can get a lot done, but then they seem to undo it by hurling 20 bookbags around the house, taking off 25 pairs of shoes and socks...laundry room is right there guys, go toss your socks in the basket, but they don't.

It has taken me years, no decades, to get on top of it all, now we're making progress but I can honestly attribute that to the fact that Tabby, the youngest is now 4 1/2. I went for a dozen years with infants and toddlers everywhere, more than trashing up the house. Yesterday when I had Alexander, I was reminded of how impossible it is to keep a house clean around a baby, as he smashed his cereal underfoot and traipsed across the carpet, only to clamber up the sofa leaving a trail of banana goo.

I've totally used up the long kitchen counter with my seed trays and grow lights, Nando anxiously and curiously involved, he's been very interested in my gardens since he moved in nearly two years ago, proud as punch now to be able to recognize seedlings as they emerge.

No one is more ready that I, my motor racing, itching to dig in the dirt, it's time to plant sugar snap snow peas and sweet peas, we only have a very small window of opportunity in Georgia to get those planted or it'll be too hot here to grow them properly.

We're having our winter time here now, no more shirtsleeves, find a sweatshirt, Edgar's car doesn't have heat, he told me he'd taken a blanket to wrap around him yesterday, leaving here at 5 each morning; Miriam coming in at 9:30 each night, wanting to dress too cute, even from McDonalds, with her sporty jacket yet complaining it's so cold. Duh, darling.

Sorting the Laundry

These are the clean clothes, taken from the dryer and slung on the laundry table to be sorted. Everyday. The pile goes down, then up, then down...never ending.

And worse yet, I'd already hung up the shirts and folded the towels. It's too cold to dry them outside this month...

Monday Morning Blues

Settling in this morning, after I got the kids to school, snuggling on the sofa with one year old Alexander, my phone rang with the school needing me immediately, telling me JoJo was in a major meltdown. I hollered for my dad to come tend to Tabby, Nando and the baby, and I flew out of here in my pjs, house shoes, no make-up, and unbrushed ratty hair, hoping I could, at least, embarrass JoJo into behaving.

But all I accomplished was to show everyone how bedraggled I can look, JoJo deep in his rage, angry because he claimed Mrs. Brooks had yelled at him. I don't think so son, no one yells like I do. I'll show you about hollering, but finally I had to take him home as he just couldn't get a grip. Knowing that I always take the side of authority is frustrating for my kids, but eventually helps them in learning accountability.

He'd, just this morning, earned his computer privileges back with some excellent A's in his folder. Again, this would be tough if I were still a working mom, but I can't tell you how many times I had to bring kids to work with me back then, a day of sitting in the media center while I tended to business.

Now they come home to do chores, he's not going to watch cartoons all day, I can promise that.

Garden Design Escapes Me

Re-reading my substantial collection of books and magazines on garden design, I am all the more convinced I can NOT do it, I can not design my garden, I just do not have an eye for it.

It's very productive, but definitely of the non-design school.

Instead of banging my head against the compost pile about it, I'll teach myself to be happy with the ability alone to grow the plants. They don't hafta to look good in a design, just look good to me.

At least I have gardens. Period, that's all I need.

Yet another positive spin on another one of my shortcomings...or how I get over it all so fast.

Get Me Out Of Here: A Book...Not a Plea

I've been asked, "How do you find time to read?" I dunno, maybe by rarely watching TV? Making time? Doing two things at once the rest of the time? Knowing I need to learn more about this life I'm living? Who knows? How's that for a definitive reply?

A fever came on Jonathan faster than I could reach for the Tylenol, and then it took down Sabrina. I put everyone to bed thinking won't this suck for us all if it rages through the house?

By this morning, Tabby was hurling, forcing me to make arrangements for church, it's too early to check with my mom about babysitting, I could miss Sunday School, swap out with Vanessa? The church is less than spitting distance from our house so this is doable.

Our warm breezes yesterday became gusty, window rattling bursts of wind bringing in a cold front, highs in the 40s all week, such a challenge for my children who hate shoes, coats, and ever shutting the doors behind them.

Big Joe told me he'd seen Joey in town so I, at least, know he hasn't been arrested, he hasn't called in a few days, knowing I'm more than disappointed he'd been kicked out of a shelter, but remembering his terribly constant disruptive, destructive behavior makes me appreciate the peace here all the more.

Paloma went through a screaming fit over nothing yesterday that culminated in her lashing out emotionally, and verbally hatefully, at Lily who doesn't rage; reducing Lily to tears. Cristy, however has an interesting plan. Majoring in psychology, she has a project due, using art therapy to get through to once abused and neglected children. Paloma is the guinea pig who went on a Krispy Kreme donut run with Cristy last night to begin the process.

Who'd a thunk it? My BPD (borderline personality disordered) daughter, who once put this family through a decade of Hell, has become a helper. Again, I urge adoptive parents to hang in there, Cristy turned 18 in 1995, a date I marked and counted off on calendars, falsely believing I'd then be free from her lashing out at everyone.

Last night she brought me a book to read, Get Me Out Of Here, as in her 20s, she started calming down and being introspective instead of sabotaging everything and everyone. There truly aren't enough good adjectives to do her justice when one considers how far she has come in the last ten years, nothing short of amazing. Still struggling emotionally with questions and internal issues, but seeking, instead of repelling help now.

Part of the problem here is Paloma's jealousy of Cristy and Lily's relationship, Cristy is Lily's birth mom. Paloma's birth mom was a violent drug dealing, prison time serving woman who abandoned the five kids to the streets of Juarez and El Paso. Cristy, remembering her own birth mom's treatment of their sibling group, not only did not make the same mistakes, but learned from them, and has the unique perspective that may very well break through to Paloma.

In December I'd run into a woman I'd not seen since Lily had been born. This lady, Linda, asked me whatever happened to Cristy, remembering we'd prayed in Sunday School for her for many years. I quickly, proudly brought her up-to-date, surprised at myself for often forgetting how bad it had been. Now there's a blessing...this forgetfulness as one ages.

Encapsulating

We'd rented a movie last night, The Guardian, for an evening of not thinking about issues, or where is on earth is Joey San Diego?I'm wondering is his Probation Officer is aware of this turn of events? As I was helping the boys clean upstairs, I was seeing the remains of destructive acts of violence that Joey had bestowed us with over that tough two years.

Moving furniture around, like we always do, Preston's mom sent a truckful this way, tossing out the older stuff that has born the weight of ten too many rages over the years, legs missing, stuffing poofing out, or springs springing everywhere.

Nando, puked in the van yesterday on the way to fix Martin's braces, odiferously eliminated my chances at stopping at Goodwill. For good measure, Scotty wet his pants at school, and I'd had to ask Edgar to go get him since I was in town.

Having Edgar home on Fridays paid off.

I don't use fancy grow lights for my tomato, pepper and other seedlings. I've found, and backed this up with 30 years experience, that everything grows just fine when grown under shop lights. Although it'll reach 60 degrees today, our nights have been bone snapping cold, so my indoor garden will just have to see me through for awhile.



This home encapsulates my dream. I swear when I'm not mulling over the kid's issues, I'm trying to figure how to jerry-rig a solar collector or even a small greenhouse.

My Break

I have alluded to An Unlit Path countless times this week as it has greatly impacted my thinking. Vanessa read it in nearly one sitting as did my mother. My father is reading it now, with Yolie and my friend, Emily waiting in line. I'd advise anyone, and everyone, not to enter the foster to adopt field until they've read this book.

Traci emailed me her suggestion of another, Dandelion on my Pillow, Butcher Knife Beneath My Bed, which I'd read several years ago, and agree it too is a must read.

But, at times, I feel my head will explode from the pressure of such stark reality, heckfire I live with it every day as well.

Susan, my friend, had given me Celia Rivenbark's Stop Dressing Your Six-year-old Like a Skank, a most hilarious, irreverent and foul-mouthed fun afternoon in quite some time. I'd read it slowly, a chapter a day, not wanting it to end, giggling and cracking up on every page. "Read it out loud, Mom," Edgar would ask.

But I couldn't, it really had too many wittily placed bad words. But so well said. I so needed this side trip to sarcasm, a viciously funny vacation from the vacuity I encounter in my family all too often. Too much alliteration? I don't think so, read the book

I snickered, guffawed, slapped my thigh, snorted with laughter, wiped my eyes, and shook the entire sofa as I was laughing my butt off. A must read for us over-pressured, way under appreciated adoptive mamas.

Those Braces of His

Got a two page letter from Daniel pouring out his frustration at the low level of compliance, and bad attitudes, he's encountering amongst others at Basic Training. No kidding sweetheart, that's why you are officer material. Struggling to maintain his positive attitude, he's irked at the foolishness around him. Hmmm, he lived with me for a decade and a half, you'd think he'd be used to it. He very independent, a self-starter and highly intelligent, I'm certain his nerves are shot right now, but I also know he's strong enough to do what it takes to excel. I'm praying hard for him.

Somehow Martin has snapped yet another bracket on his braces and I need to carry him to town this morning.

My Mouth

I served supper to 25 people before 5 p.m. only to have Gito call me and say he wasn't even wrestling tonight. All that for nothing. Now everyone's gonna be dogging me for snacks all evening after having finished supper so dadgum early, half of 'em already digging around in the pantry.

We're so blessed about this tutoring situation. We qualify since my kids don't necessarily score well on standardized tests, and we benefit greatly from these wonderful teachers working so intensely with the kids for hours after school, once we add it all up, it'll go on until April.

And when Sergi stopped at Wal-Mart to pick up that bag that didn't make it into my cart, they couldn't find it, they demanded a receipt from him, all sorts of hassles so he called me on his cell. "Pass that phone to the manager Sergi," I'd demanded... and then they quickly found my bag. Uh-huh. Had my new granny panties in it as my kids so fondly refer to my undergarments when they come out of the dryer.

They're gonna have a cow when they see the little lacy ones I bought today, all my old ones falling off of me, and bagging around in my britches.

No, I ain't got no brakes on this mouth of mine.

What Part About Consequences Do My Kids Not Get?

I had several different emails yesterday thanking me for blogging, for making others not feel so alone in their struggles. I appreciate that as y'all's emails help me as well. And again, blogging also helps me process our events.

My day blew up suddenly in my face at 8:30 this morning when I arrived at the school for CW and Allen's 'Author Tea.' They'd written books and were sharing them with their parents. CW had dedicated his book to his mom and his dog, Lizzie. Gee thanks, CW. At least you listed me first.

My cell phone was vibrating and I saw it was from Edgar, who doesn't call during his work day, so I knew something was up. Turns out he'd just realized he was mistaken on his traffic court date, when he pulled it out of his pocket to ask time off from his supervisor, he gasped. Uh-OH, it was today and it was in 30 minutes...worse yet, he was an hour away.

Sucks to be you darling, I'd cheerily thought, but what I said was, "drive carefully and I'll meet you there," knowing I had time to finish up at this tea.

Georgia has a new law in which you must pull to the other lane (on a four lane) if a police or emergency vehicle is on the shoulder of the road. It was raining, and Edgar just didn't think, so he was ticketed.

Ouch. I'd just texted him yesterday, he's under 21, Georgia is tough on young drivers. $300 fine, gotta come back in ten days so I lectured him some more. I blogged about Sonny's dismal outcome yesterday on the other blog.

He went back to work fairly upset.

I had to then go to criminal court, one county down, to find Joey's P.O. so she could serve a subpoena on me without sending a deputy to our house, giving me the courtesy of not upsetting my kids. I tiptoed in the back to wait until I got her attention, but was listening to some young girl, in an orange jail jumpsuit, try and bs the judge who was having none of it.

No way did I then have time to bake a dessert for Gito's thing tonight so I braved Wal-Mart, buying groceries, only to get home and realize the clerk had forgotten to put one of my bags in the cart. I called, asked them to just return the money to my debit card, they wouldn't...but they'd sure enough have allowed me to purchase something over the phone, irked me enough that I'm going to have to send Sergi to get it or I'll blow a gasket and forget my Christian witness.

I cook 12 pounds of pinto beans each week, today's the day, my kids act like it's been a looooonnnngggg seven days since we last had mega nachos, Edgar just texted his thanks for me being there this morning for him, makes me feel bad for all the promising young men like him that don't have mamas, hope it encourages others to stick it out, believe me the thanks are coming for all y'all do for children. I promise you that.

Tutoring, Sugar Thoughts, and Prayers

Today will be an exercise in logistical challenges as I have many places to be at the same time. The middle school is offering tutoring to Mayra and Javy until 5 p.m. when I need to pick them up, but Gito's wrestling match starts at that same time, to say nothing of the other 20+ hungry young'uns expecting supper. I'll just have to move supper up an hour to feed as many as possible before I split myself in half and go to two places at the same time.

CW & Allen had decorated invitations to the "Author's Breakfast" at 8:30 this morning, Chuy's is tomorrow morning. Sweet smells, even the thought of sugar in the morning gags me, and if Allen exclaims his joy over fruit punch one more time, I'm surely gonna hurl. Honey, that's why God made turbo black coffee.

Before 4 p.m. I need to send desserts, that I haven't yet made, over to the high school for the fund-raising dinner tonight. I can't even think about what to bake, as I can't tolerate any more sugar thoughts until noon or so, and other kids have CRCT tutoring until 4 and will need to be picked up from the elementary school, grandbaby Blanca as well.

Blanca's mom, Carolina, has been put on bed rest for this fifth pregnancy. We are praying for everything to be OK as well as praying for my friend, Jessi's grandma.

I listened to a Hollywood star on TV last night, talking about Alcoholics Anonymous and a Higher Power, saying how much that had helped him, but tiptoeing around the word God. Well son, I'm glad you stopped drinking...he told a story about golfing with a judge who'd maintained that 95% of his caseload involved drugs and alcohol abuse...but me personally acknowledging God has been the key to my own inner strength...however I don't have a "cool" reputation to uphold.

I Don't Want Anything

I peruse many personal financial blogs as well, such as these, and I love Money magazine but I swear (I wanted to say I swanny like my grandma used to say, but then I remembered that I don't always wanna sound like a hillbilly) that the only way to keep expenses under control is just not to spend money. I'm too logical, if you don't want a hangover then don't drink, if you don't want to get married, then don't date. Duh.

I've so stayed out of Wal-Mart since Christmas, hardly have spent a dime in the miscelaneous category of our budget, cooking suppers from scratch, and people have cleaned out their closets and given us tons of clothes.

Reminds me of my friend Jesse, she'd lost 40 pounds and is stunning, told her mama she wasn't going to go to Wal-Mart for a year and she didn't. Don't wanna spend, stay out of a store, wanna lose weight, don't eat.

My garden hardly needs anything as I've saved seeds, divided plants and propagated others.

I'm still not putting on much weight and my clothes are baggy, but I know it'll come back and I can live with droopy drawers until then. I just don't give a good cahoot over what I wear anyway, at 52 style hardly matters.

I do need to go to town for notebook paper and about one other thing to hold us for now, I simply hope to pass down this total lack of "want" to my young'uns.

My Own Pep Talk For Today

Just found out that I'm getting subpoenaed to go to court as a witness against Joey. His Probation Officer has been called to the facility twice this week, and it's only Wednesday, as he's been threatening others. It appears as if his probation will be revoked, and it's looking like a diversion facility may be his only option. After 10,000 chances at least.

It'd be a big, "I told you so," if I thought that would help. I'm way past my anger at him, I simply feel sorry that he has never taken advantage of any opportunity that's been given to him, and there have been many.

Some of my kids are still terribly angry with him, Edgar passed him on the street, driving by and did not stop, telling me later that he still feels he needs to cool down regarding his fury at having so much stuff stolen by Joey.

After all these years in the adoption world, I still don't understand what it's going to take to get through to some kids. Are they damaged forever? Is there any hope? Are we just causing ourselves massive stress in even trying? Would we have more progress slamming our heads against cinder blocks? Less pain?

But then I get a grip and I look at the successes within our family. Ten years ago I despaired of Cristy ever making any emotional progress, but she has done so against all odds, as has Big Joe. Many of my older kids made poor decisions, and suffered the consequences, yet learned from it and moved on appropriately.

So, yes, Big Mama, it's worth the effort, hang in there.

Feeling Tina's Pain

This is a tough week, due to several of my troubled children, but possibly the most difficult task involved facing the one year anniversary of Sarah and Preston's stillborn baby that we'd been allowed to hold, and say goodbye to, that sad night.

Preston stayed home with Sarah and Ray for the day and I dealt with it emotionally by burying myself in work and busyness.

Sonny went with me to Atlanta for a meeting regarding my daughter living in a psychiatric facility diagnosed now with PTSD, Oppositional Defiant Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Schizo Affective Disorder. Any one of these illnesses would be tough to manage, having this combination is even more reason to despair. There are adult mental health residential options for her, two that she'd told me about, she's right excited over both, so we're looking into the application process.

I often deal with another older brother who refuses to believe these diagnoses, when she's 18 she can go live with him and he can deny her treatment, but while I still have a say in a minor child, I will continue to seek all available help that I can.

This is terribly sad as it has denied her a chance for a real childhood and her adulthood prospects are even more bleak. Her emotional struggles have been monumental and there have been many different psychiatrists all involved in her care, all attempting to stabilize her. I am fortunate in that medicaid is paying for all this, psychiatric care is astronomically expensive.

Sonny, sitting in on the meeting with me, was simply sad about it all. He gets it, he understands her prognosis. It is so not her fault, this isn't a behavior issue, it is a very severe mental illness, and just as if it were a physical illness, I am searching for treatment options, resources, cures, programs, any sort of help. Some way to keep her safe from herself.

I'm remembering the checklist, pre-adoption, where we check off those issues we believe we can cope with in an adopted child. I am dealing with so much more than I ever thought possible when I naively worked the checklist seemingly a hundred years ago.

Talking with Tina last night on the phone, after my 8 p.m. run to the grocery store with Edgar, bemoaning the very dumb decision her daughter demonstrated this week, potentially life-threatening with her health issues...how do we get through to children who do not have the mental, nor emotional, faculties needed in mature decision making and comprehension? Kids who will not listen to the experts, who go against knowledgeable advice, too hard-headed to understand the repercussions and consequences?

Joey now telling me he wished he'd listened to me. DUH. I could have saved Big Joe and Cristy two tons of grief if they'd just showed some understanding of poor decision making processes and results back then.

Life is hard enough when you make correct choices...why compound a difficult process?

Transplanting

Arriving at the RYDC yesterday I was informed that Fabian's behavior had been atrocious. This I believe, it's how he acted in our house as well. Repeatedly warned, and explained to, that this anti-social behavior is unacceptable in society. Son, you need to get a grip. If I allowed myself to do so, I could see the hardened criminal mentality growing within him, but I'm choosing to focus on his positive attributes and find him the help that he desperately needs.

Joey's calling nearly every day now. Who doesn't need someone to report to? To seek reassurance from? He's now living in an independent living facility, holding down two part time jobs and supposedly attending night school. I might be overly suspicious, but something isn't smelling right in his story about the school situation. Sometimes my kids just tell me what they think I want to hear. How about the truth? That's what I prefer.

And today Sonny and I are trekking to Atlanta for another meeting, trying to get Alex help as well.

When I'm gone all day from home I still have to cook for 25-30 people, do the laundry, yada yada yada, finally got it all done, and finished planting my seed flats of tomatoes, various peppers and eggplants, all stuff that needs to be started early in the season. I'm already transplanting the first tomato flat into larger individual pots. Eased my mind after a day of driving and pressures at home.

Edgar'd come in from work sullen and fussy so I was doing my best to stay away from his sphere of hostility; someone needed to go lift weights instead of dumping negative vibes all over me.

Finally late last night, settling down with the new issue of Mother Earth News, something I've read for over 30 years now...that's how long I've desired solar energy and a greenhouse, I suppose my patience will pay off someday, I have the land, huge gardens, and the hens that I've always wanted.

I'm hoping to not hear from the elementary school today. I sent JoJo to school even though he was melting down all over the kitchen this morning over nothing. I had to raise my voice all morning at him, he refused to get out of the van at school until I told him I'd literally carry him down the school hall in my pjs if he didn't get out on his own. Looking at me cross-eyed, taking in my messy hair, raggedy pajamas and hard-headed demeanor, he hopped out right fast on his own, scampering through the doors, but by the set of rigid arms I could see someone was going to have to deal with his pissiness this morning.

Fabian's Day

It took nearly all day to accomplish this one thing today.

Bye, I love you

In the middle of cooking supper Sonny told me he had a church league basketball game in the next 30 minutes, gee buddy, thanks for the heads-up.

We shoved our dinner down our throats and about 10 of us went to his game which I thoroughly enjoyed. Sonny played well so he was a happy camper. Vanessa was ill-tempered and I asked Cristy to babysit the rest of the kids while she was sitting on the sofa knitting a cool scarf.

That's not what I thought was gonna happen to her 15 years ago when she was in the midst of her adoptee/raging teen out of control with issues, turmoil. If another, older adoptive mom had told me, "Oh, Honey! She's gonna calm down, teach herself to knit, and finish college," I'd have rolled my eyes and busted out laughing.

But I'd have been wrong. Glad to have been wrong.

On Saturday I'd piled a ton of kids together and taken them to the dollar theater where I shelled out $22 to see Open Season which was hilarious. I'd called my friend, Emily, to grab her kids and meet us there. We hadn't done that in years, indeed she pointed out remembering Monica, now 23, sitting on my lap at the last movie.

This time she was sitting with a grandbaby in her lap who behaved remarkably well.

Miriam and Edgar passed up the movie so that they could go out to eat with Monica and her husband, Dewayne.

Only a couple of kids had meltdowns this weekend, a rainy, cold, stuck-in-the-house, cabin fever inducing couple of days. Jose didn't make it to school today as he's still in his hissy fit mode. His psychological evaluation indicated his total inability to accept responsibility for any of his behaviors, preferring instead to blame everyone else demonstrating the professional victim mentality that I so dislike.

I'm wondering how many years of therapy will be needed to correct this stinking thinking?

The absolute highlight of my weekend was a very quick phone call from Daniel to reassure me all was well, told me he'd written a letter with more details, "Bye, I love you," and that was it.

Being Happy and So Opinionated

"Personal finance is 80% behavior. You need to cut out habits that make you spend more."

All y'all up in northern Minnesota would have heard me yelling if your windows had been open. Only cold weather muted the sound of me hollering when I saw the price of a little container of mache...$4.99 and I could eat it in one sitting. Dadgum, I can grow a field of it at that price and eat to my heart's content. No wonder people are broke nowadays.

I love vases of flowers in the house but Lord knows I can't afford to go buy any, and why would I when it is easier to walk outside in my pjs and cut my own. I'm getting worse and worse about this as I get older, I'm starting to sound like Euell Gibbons, but he was right. I have a yardload of poke salad beginning to grow after being dormant. I shore am that country...yes I meant to spell it like that, heckfire I talk like that.

Cristy, now nearly 30, is teaching Lily to knit. Cristy struggled with care-free spending habits when she was first on her own, without me dogging her about savings and non-spendings, but years later she's telling me about our society's lack of creativity, productivity and innovation; we are fed pap on TV and we suffer greatly as bored couch potatoes, no one seems happy, so I suggest that everyone get up and get busy doing something you love.

Ms. Carr just sent me this article explaining that spicy foods may protect against cancer, which inspires me to stay off my butt and out in the garden, keeping myself happy.

More Thoughts on An Unlit Path

This particular book, An Unlit Path, that I've mentioned is haunting me.

One quote, "This was the first normal thing Cain had done in a long time," precedes an afternoon where feces are smeared violently everywhere on every surface, and the mother, Deborah Hannah, cannot get the the culprit to admit he's done this, nor, of course, will he clean it up, so it falls on her to do so.

If I had a nickle for every time I've been through this as well...there will literally be a child with turd in hand, denying the evidence while I gape in astonishment. "Well that ain't a paintbrush in your hand, " I'd holler.

"Flush the turd, get a rag and 409 and get busy," I'd loudly direct,although I've often cleaned it up my ownself. This was not covered in my MAPP class, Model Approaches to Parenting Partnerships. I had 30 kids before I'd encountered this artistic endeavor in someone. And I was wildly not impressed.

I learned the definition to encompresis (soiling in one's pants...#2) the hard way. My shirt says it all today, Vanessa was taking pictures this afternoon for me to use this week.

Mrs. Hannah goes on to explain her son's behavior in that it gave him power, "power by choosing to control or not control this behavior." And she's so correct. We find this to be common in kids who've been repeatedly moved around, powerless to control any part of their destiny, compounded by a constant revolving door of caretakers, until the child's ability to trust...if it ever existed... is destroyed.

This same RAD child who's primal needs were never met by the birth parents.

I only have one RAD kid, and I've not a bit more reached her in 8 years than I've learned how to fly. Possibly it can't be done, quite likely that part inside her does not exist on any level. Does this mean I failed her since I can't reach her?

I hope not because I've tried everything I know to do and more.

I cringed in this book as this dear mother figuratively beat herself up over her perceived failings. She eventually learned to forgive herself for "her inability to make this situation right" when she was dealing with psychopathic personalities.

Honey, I know and I share your frustration. Maybe I'm so Pollyanna, or old, or whatever, but I've finally learned to step back, after years of trying and crying, and I now understand that I didn't cause my kids to be like this, I can only do my best to try and help them not remain this way.

Like her, I also have a daughter that has been diagnosed schizophrenic, it initially is a massive kick in the gut, the WHYS, the unknown, and the fears for their future but we, as parents, must step back and assess the situation. Again we aren't the cause, we're now hopefully the help that is needed...not the cure, duh we can't be that, but we can help and I was impressed with Mrs. Hannah's continued devotion to her psychiatrically hospitalized children.

We are all stumbling our way through this maze.

An Unlit Path

I reviewed this book on my other blog. Bottom line: a MUST read for foster and adoptive parents.

Peppers Again

Some of my kids check the blog daily to see if they are mentioned, at times others of mine would prefer anonymity.

The sun is hardly up and the kids want to go outside and ride bikes, it's Saturday and I've been talking about taking everyone to the dollar theater to see a kid's movie, a rare treat for us...do the math.

Yolie and I've quite bellyaching about Daniel, just the pride now, but I sure do wish I could call him, it seems foreign and odd to not be allowed to even talk to a son of mine.

Other than driving the elementary kids to school I've hardly been off our property for a week. I've worked in the house instead planting seeds of tomatoes (four varieties of heirlooms) and peppers (bell, jalapeno and a new Costa Rican sweet pepper) under grow lights...something I best have done by the time daffodils are blooming.

Simplicity

This lady here wore the same thing for a year - one brown dress - an anti-fashion statement. I'm so impressed.

"Simplicity of living, if deliberately chosen, implies a compassionate approach to life. It means that we are choosing to live our daily lives with some degree of conscious appreciation of the condition of the rest of the world." -- Duane Elgin

Years ago, when I had my first child I became enamored of living beneath my means, living on as little as possible, when I'd first read Helen and Scott Nearing's books.

I've done the best I could over the years, sidetracked a good bit by the sheer number of kids clamoring for my attention, now that life is slowing down somewhat in that I won't have any new kids to acclimate, I can concentrate once again on priorities that I believe in so strongly, teaching an easier way to live to my kids, less pressure overall.

It's tough, surrounded by so many people, to pursue a simple lifestyle, yet that's my desire, hence the gardens, the yard sales, recycling, the compost heap, my hens, vegetarianism - eating low on the food chain, etc.

Consumerism bores me to tears, shopping sucks, and debt is worse. Starving children everywhere and we stuff ourselves here in America, our ecological footprint is a nightmare. It distresses me greatly.

But back to the lady in the brown dress, when asked what people thought of her...some hadn't even noticed so concerned were they in their own fashion consciousness. That's something to think about.

And tonight on 20/20 - "Some families seem to have it all -- gorgeous houses, extravagant vacations -- but in reality, they're on the brink of financial ruin. In order to keep up with the Joneses, many are up to their eyeballs in debt."

I want to watch this show with my kids, they are so easily swayed, even seduced, by advertising and the feeling that everyone else has the good life...they all seem to drive SUVs, have more and do more...well duh kids there's 40 of us.

Stealing

Little Miss Nutritious, Overly-Concerned-With-Crappy-Food, usually preaching against the evils of processed foods, just ate half a bag of very old, stale, Christmas candy for no discernible reason other than severe frustration at being unable to eek the truth out of a teenager last night.

"Do ya think I'm THAT stupid?" I'd screamed in pure-T, unadulterated, aggravation.

My old laptop, with tax information on it, is missing.

I caught a kid red-handed with a ton of pilfered stuff from the house, that he "found."

Like someone would find a big screen TV in Wal-Mart and think it is then OK to TAKE it. I call that STEALING. We went around and around, getting nowhere, for two and a half hours.

I stormed to bed with a whopper of a headache over this ignorant behavior.

Dr. G came today to work with the unconfessed, lying, sticky-fingered kid. Did we get any answers? No. Did Dr. G help calm ME down? Somewhat.

But if I don't teach these kids that stealing and lying are wrong, no matter what one's religion, morals, or value systems are involved, life will SUCK for that kid in jail.

It's that simple, that logical, that black and white...and that kid just stared at me stubbornly and hatefully, mad at ME because I'd caught HIM with the merchandise. Get REAL.

Being Parentified

Yolie updated her blog yesterday, writing about being parentified. She made me look incredibly understanding, but the truth is, I went through the process blindly feeling my way, never having encountered such a strong case of it before.

We have the benefit now of looking back at it, it was as she said, but she looked like the very forlorn baby, watching her baby drive off to the Army, this week. Like all Yolie's childhood pain came rushing back, slammed her while we stood there, but even that was mixed with extreme pride about Daniel.

She'd poured 21 years into him and done a whale of a job, sheltering him from the abuse and neglect in their birth home, him and Joe, plus she showed them both what love was, paved the way for me, and taught them about attachment.

They were banged up, shell-shocked kids when they flew to Georgia in 1991. Always watching Yolie for cues, Joe and Daniel slowly learned to trust me. Yolie was the slowest to warm up, no other mother figure had ever remained in their life until then. Somehow Yolie never undermined me, but she watched me like a hawk, hovering and ready to intervene if necessary.

This was my third sibling group, but the first time I'd encountered such parentified behavior. They'd even been spilt up once in foster care, Yolie crying and trying to tell me how if felt to see her brothers carried off.

Yolie floundered hard at age 18, I didn't see it coming, didn't understand how she perceived she was aging out of a family. It only lasted a couple of months, but then again, after she married, she had a tough time understanding her place in the family.

She worked through it verbally with me and she's since explained, even translated behaviors for me, of my other children's thought processes. I've been so clueless at times.

Third Grade Breakfast

My hat is off to any one of y'all living anywhere north of the Georgia/Tn border. I'm dadgum freezing and irritable today, this ain't natural, ice is forming on the power lines, pine trees and Leyland cypress, our high won't reach 40 all day, and just two days ago I was sleeping with my window open and enjoying the warm breeze.

Ya gotta wonder how anything grows around here, it can be 105 degrees or five degrees and our plants figure how to go either way, guess I should do the same. Daffodils blooming with ice crystals surrounding them, and the daphne is drop dead fragrant and in full bloom.

My 52 year old bones are creaking though, I just can't stand this.

I'm ill as a hornet to not be able to call Daniel, that doesn't feel right either. He'd stood in the kitchen, remarking on the new sink, amazed that I'd got it done without him here. He liked it a lot, but he's used to being the one to oversee projects. The army's gonna love this man.

Edgar was iffy for a few days, he's as attached as I am to Daniel, so he was ill with me about it. We hardly talked for a day or so, in our own worlds,sniping at each other, he'd gotten his feelings hurt last week by someone but he'd remarked to me later, "at least I still have my mom," reminding himself that he doesn't take this for granted, this having a mom.

While the kids were at youth group last night I'd fried him up flatbread, pinto beans and scrambled eggs that he drowned with Tapitio sauce, his world is right now. Daniel's gone, Mom cried, but the family stays strong. Daniel will be back.

I'd blasted outta here this morning for the third grade breakfast, I'm taking donuts to school for Tony's birthday in an hour, Jonathan had a cow because I was late to the breakfast but I couldn't leave the middle schoolers standing in the icy rain. I knew my son-in-law, Jose, was covering the bases at school until I got there. Jonathan had Ms. Carr to call and make sure I was coming and Paloma'd been bus left which is silly as I'm the dern bus.

But my first thought at the crack of dawn was about Daniel telling me he had to report to the base at 4:30 in the morning so I prayed for his safety, strength and time there.

All Things Daniel

Blogging helps to relieve the pressure in my head from fighting back tears.

Yolie drove me to Daniel's apartment so I could pick up his jeep, and his banking stuff, to hold for him until he returns in about 20 LONG weeks. We finally met his girlfriend, a very pretty girl, sweet, calling him Danny, she was telling us he'd informed her that only his family can call him Daniel, drawing a line in the sand, being Daniel.

I'd told him we wouldn't cry, we didn't, we got to talk to the recruiter, who reassured me that Daniel would not be deployed, he'd finish college and then be an officer. We hugged and kissed Daniel goodbye, he got in the recruiters Government Issue car and they drove off. That man took my grown baby boy away.

Then we, Yolie and I, sobbed. 20 weeks is a long, long time.

I've depended on Daniel for so much, he's tried to make sure that I have passwords, accounts caught up, computers wired in the house etc. He just texted me two more things that I need to know, he left Chuck a list...this just feels too weird without him.

Triplets Providing Proof

This link takes you to 'amazing pictures of triplets bonding in the womb,' which jumpstarts my butt to my continuous carryings-on about not separating siblings in adoption...it should be LAW. This one subject makes me nuts.

Looking at Yolie, Daniel and Joe the other night, so bonded after their years of turmoil in the birth home, foster care and then adoption, only one caseworker then was working her best to keep Yolie adopted with her brothers. Sadly, they had other siblings as well, too old to be adopted, one was in a YDC facility, one had been adopted by an older sister, and one more was yet to be born.

Pictured here are Sonny and Gito, birth brothers as well, working together to fix a cabinet door that sprung its hinges from overuse last night.

I now have separated siblings within my home, Fabian not with us, locked up in a detention facility, he's breaking Vanessa's heart, causing Edgar's jaw to clench when we talk about it and grief to spread across Miriam's face.

Heck, I'm 52 years old yet my brother was here last weekend as well, you just don't outgrow your need for your sibling. We took a long, long hike, talking the entire time, not having seen each other in several months, the rest of the time he played cards with Grandma. After her heart attack which stunned him, he's concerned about seeing her more often, he lives in Florida.

I talked to Daniel several times yesterday without crying. Today sometime, I suppose this evening when he gets off work, Edgar and I need to go bring Daniel's Jeep back over here to store it on Sarah's property where it'll be safe from grubby Bubba hands.

I'm not having problems coming up with topics or words for both blogs I'm writing, I'm having struggles with reigning my big mouth in, with not using 'ain't' and other colloquialisms that I usually spout off.

Our weather turned cold, so I'm not outside weeding in my spare time, I'm planting seed flats in the house under grow lights, you just can't walk into a garden center and find the selections that you can grow yourself from a seed catalog, I've been growing my own for decades now and loving it. Tabby's riding a tricycle in the house, down the hall and the rest of the kids are scurrying around tending to business. Life remains as peaceful as one would want with a couple dozen kids at home.

Sleet Coming

Last day I can call Daniel, I didn't call him yesterday for fear I'd cry, something he doesn't like but, at least, he was fairly tolerant of my tears Sunday night. I didn't even check on Joe yesterday, hardly talked to Yolie as I was trying hard to maintain my emotions.

Deysi and Alexander distracted me as did my front garden. Sleeping with the window open over my bed, smelling my very redolent earth outside, thinking about my blessings, rather than my trepidation over Daniel, helped me sleep OK.

Shut the window now, the highs will barely reach 50, Thursday even has a chance of sleet.

The family that stayed with us last month has a darling 14 year old daughter undergoing a liver transplant today. I'd like to ask people to pray for Julianna as well as for her family. I can't imagine how difficult it must be to have a child undergo major surgery, much less still manage to care for the other very medically needy children. My life is a walk in the park in comparison.

Bye Bye Warm Weather

Someone took this yesterday of Edgar and CJ walking down to the mailbox. That length of road is where the kids run after getting off the schoolbus each day.

I got through today without crying about Daniel.

72 degrees, I finished working in the front beds but it took nearly 8 hours, Nando learned how to ride a two wheeler bike without training wheels and Grandpa had taken the kids swimming in the creek in January. Our warm spell is fixing to end though.

My brother, Jimbo, left this morning...like I needed another good-bye, but Vanessa and her friend, Hannah, made a Krispy Kreme run to bring me chocolate covered, custard filled donuts. I ate two with my dirty garden hands, I swear they taste even better then.

Basic Training

15 1/2 years ago I adopted Yolie, then 11, Big Joe, 8, and Daniel on his 6th birthday.

The years flew.

Last night Daniel was here for supper before leaving for the Georgia Army National Guard basic training, taking a semester off from college to do so; leaving his beloved Bulldog Nation and his very proud family.

Daniel never gave me a minute of problems, not one minute, never broke my heart with anger, never acted out as a teenager. I've conveniently forgotten his first year or so with me as he tried to settle down.

He gave me ten solid years of Little League, middle school and high school ballgames, both football and baseball, and he made excellent grades. He fixed everything in our house, hung out with his mama, and had great friends.

I'm proud of his choice to go in the army but I hate to be away from him, I absolutely hate it, I hate not being in, at least, cell phone reach of him. No email, no IM, nothing for several months now.

Yolie held up right well last night, trying to be strong for Daniel, while I sobbed for about two hours. Daniel, helpless with his arms around me, just let me cry and get it out. Yolie pointed out, "you're sure gonna see some fallout from this."

No kidding girlfriend.

Joe left first, clutching his daughter, making Yolie walk to the car with him, she's always been their everything, goodbyes are even more painful considering their history. He put in a CD, Juan Luis Geurra, Bachata Rosa, music they listened to in El Paso two decades ago, ripping Yolie's heart a little more, but amazingly she still held on to herself pretty tight.

I am really proud of Daniel, I've always been proud of him and thrilled to be his mom. I just hate the letting go part with a passion, I hate it, pouring myself into the kids, then having to let go...it sucks.

Drama Respite

Other than our numbers here, we're living a dreamily normal family life; no strife, no issues dripping off our walls and no fallout to keep dealing with constantly.

I simply got to work outside all day long, in the front gardens, after JoJo and I ran out for a couple hundred dollars worth of groceries early in the morning, running into someone I'd previously worked with for 13 years, he's now retired also, reminding me again how fast time flies. This is my fifth year of retirement.

Vanessa cooked spinach and cheese quesadillas for me, and brought them outside, so I could eat and work, the other kids made sandwiches, and Grandpa took the little Bubbas on a walk.

Back in the woods on our property is a cemetery from the 1800s. Jonathan accidentally knocked a tombstone over, Grandpa fixed it, but my very Mexican Catholic children were spooked. Cristy, especially, was all over Jonathan about it. She'd made tamales that I'm going to eat for breakfast...wasn't that a totally unrelated segue?

Big Joe was here pooting around with Sergi all day, hogging the TV, making the Bubbas watch a football playoff game.

Very warm weather, daffodils, wild violets, red bud trees and, of course, dandelions in bloom. I'm so enjoying my respite from drama and from cold weather.

Meds

I ended up keeping myself home all day yesterday listening to some very old Tammy Wynette, Merle Haggard, and George Jones songs while I caught up on laundry. A blast from my past, but then I just slightly updated myself with Jackson Browne, got up to the 1970s era at least. Spurred me on to clean out half the kitchen cupboards as well while screeching, "You never even call me by my name, Dar-ling," along with ole Merle, as I stood on a kitchen chair, dancing, hooting and hollering; amusing the tar outta the kids.

My brother, Jimbo, is coming today from Tallahassee, and tomorrow we're having a 'see Daniel off to Basic Training dinner' thingy. Notice I don't use the words good-bye. I had a tough enough time letting him go get an apartment last year, if I'd have known this was coming, I would simply have had a cow. If I'd known much of what last year had in store for me I'd have probably called a doc for meds.

An email question yesterday asked me if my kids were on meds? Nope. Yes, my life would be easier if I could zone the kids on some mood altering pills, but I have found too many complications with that method over the years.

A good many of my children come to me on medications, and with the help of different doctors, I've weaned them. I don't mean to pull a Tom Cruise here, but I'm kinda against meds also, in that it just seems too easy, and I don't really believe people should depend on pills if they don't have to do so. There are, of course, times when it is necessary, but kids adopted from the foster care system appear to be way too over-medicated for convenience sake.

I want to know my real kids, not the masked-by-meds behaviors, even Joey was once on 18 pills a day. That ain't natural nor normal. After slowly, very slowly weaning him, we discovered his behaviors were similar on drugs and off drugs, the kids have a huge resistance ability to the meds as time wears on, their tolerance for the meds grows in response, let's change the behaviors, not the medications.

But I also know, that's not always an option.

Martin's Braces

My mother calls days like these, "Nightgown Days" where one just doesn't ever get dressed, no plans to go to town, no errands to run, no need to spiff up.

I've had to leave Tabby and Nando different times this week, in Sarah's capable hands, but they want a day of hanging out so we're doing the laundry, the dishes, watering plants and piddling around.

Why Not?

I'm so blessed, Jack and JoJo being sweet here, one of my mom's friends gave me several boxes yesterday of clothes, name brands and the right sizes that she'd collected for us, and today, Miss Nancy, at school passed on several great sacks of clothes for the Bubbas who seem to be getting huger by the minute. Javy is now taller than Edgar.

BIG NEWS: Carolina's baby is a girl as is Yolie's baby, both due in May. Do I dare to believe that we could have an awesome year? Why not?

Functioning Teens

We are again resuming in-home therapy sessions with Dr. G, following a month long Christmas break. Just because it was fairly calm for us does not negate our ongoing need for therapy. Sometimes I think I need it as much as the kids, not because they've made me crazy, but because I need a great deal of knowledge and understanding of what makes my kids tick.

Dr. G and I were talking about a shared sense of failure, to some degree over Joey, Alex, Fabian and Teresa. Feeling like failures is stupid, this we both know, it's more of a sense of loss in that they were all either unable, or unwilling, to accept the therapeutic help that was given to them for long periods of time.

Emotional issues are precarious ledges to balance upon. Alex has had many professionals involved in her psychiatric care, seemingly to no avail, but at least we have kept her safe. Is that the best we can do? I don't know, I'm not done yet.

Fabian has bombed out of several arenas, it's terribly sad when one considers his huge potential as a human being, he seems to still have so much going for him. Diagnosed with an anger problem, a conduct disorder, close to intermittent rage disorder, he will someday simply have to learn to get a grip.

The jury is still out on Joey, he's calling me each day now, touching base, needing reassurance that I still love him, that he's still part of our family as he stumbles through life, 2 steps up, a big fart backwards...he'll probably make it fairly successfully.

IFI is kicking back in on Teresa, full blown RAD, I still have high hopes for her, even when it appears bleak, even when her very weird bathroom behavior borders on the bizarre; the nastiness is awful, but it is indicative of someone who has been sexually abused...thank God for therapy...this gets so out of my realm of competence, heck I'm educated as an elementary school teacher, and a media specialist, not a psychotherapist.

So I reminded Dr. G of his massive progress with Vanessa, Gito, Javy and Jose, huge strides in each of them as they deal with issues and events in their former existences in foster care and birth families. Functioning teenagers in a middle class society is wonderful news.

Big Joe came by last night while I was cleaning up the laundry room. There are two doors to enter the laundry room, it's a walk-through either from the kitchen or the hallway, several empty laundry baskets yawning while waiting for the dirty clothes that are invariably slung into the room, while on the run, and only into a long pile, not into the baskets...ever.

Dog if I'm gonna sort, I just shove it into the machine like clockwork, and reaching the bottom last night inspired a sweep and mop job, for which I rewarded myself with a sit down with Joe.

He'd once been kidnapped in a bad drug deal back before he even entered foster care, he was telling me the details he remembered, now he's 23, this happened at age 5. We'd been told that it was in the newspapers so we searched online to no avail, that town's internet archives only go back ten years.

Joe is not very introspective, but he is interested in his past. Now he's a father to a demanding two year old, and he has his own questions which I understand and respect.

We've already survived his birthparent reunion, it made us all stronger, we can say that now, but when it happened, out of the blue, we were shell-shocked for months, the fallout was big for Joe, but it calmed down and now Joe wants to know the unadulterated truth. It isn't pretty, Yolie told him and I that she wished she'd never read their case studies.

I've told my kids, for decades, that I won't lie to them nor keep secrets from them, and somehow this does not emotionally threaten me at all. Most of Joe's childhood, most of his history and his memories are here within our family, he's pretty emotionally secure nowadays, and I can only imagine, that now since he's a father, he has some lingering desire to know more about himself.

Miriam's Ditch Adventure

Big Jose and Carolina needed to be in Atlanta at the crack of dawn so they dropped Mauri, Blanca and Baby Yolie off at my house before 7, three more kids didn't add any more work for me, but my children were as distracted as ever.

JoJo's been terribly wound up and emotional, fighting with Allen two nights in a row, crying like a baby at supper over nothing, stomping around this morning with his voice close to breaking...glad I don't teach fourth grade today.

I am finally getting my black roots colored this morning, the lady who used to do my hair moved away, I found another lady that I've known for decades, I don't want someone young doing my hair as stupid as that sounds, I don't want anyone even attempting to make me trendy or halfway up to date. I also don't want any of my smart-mouth kids (Sarah)commenting here that there's no danger of that.

Miriam somehow put her car in a ditch on the dirt road, calling Sonny to help, hoping against hope that Big Mama doesn't find out. But, of course, a busload of narcs (Bubbas) came barreling down the dirt road, no way to silence that crowd as they immediately roared up the driveway to tattle. Miriam quickly called my cell to be the first to let me know...good thing too since within a few minutes Sarah's husband had already told me. "Hadda pull one of your kids outta the ditch," he'd snickered.

OK, girlfriend if you're kin to everyone on this side of the county, it isn't likely you're gonna get away with anything. Let this be a lesson to you.

This was at the same slight curve that Daniel also claimed a tree attacked his truck several years ago. Jesse had to be pulled out right there as well by Chuck one night years ago.

I know that I parented for decades without a cell phone but I can't, and won't, do it anymore. My cell absolutely died and could not be resuscitated 8 days before the contract was up. I stood at the counter at Verizon, asking for Plan B, C and D, before they finally came up with a solution that would not cost me anything. I knew they could.

It is only an 8 day stopgap plan but at least my young'uns can reach me 24-7, or the school or YDC, DJJ, deputies, the mental health facilities....

Finding Help For Fabian

I had no idea about what to expect in court this morning. It's just so sad, Fabian has so much potential and he's using none of it at the moment. He had a black eye from getting into yet another fight, claims he injured the other guy which does not make me feel any better.

I asked to be able to spend a few minutes alone with him, he was struggling to not cry, Miss Kim is working hard to get him into another wilderness program, she found two possibilities and I remain hopeful.

I'm again very blessed to have a wonderful juvenile judge and very good DJJ folks. They're really putting out a lot of effort to find him the help that he needs.

Joey called this morning just to talk, he's set some achievable goals, I've been encouraging him, he might very well pull this off, and I'll then be the proudest mama around...I'll take all the credit, act like I was the one doing all his work, I'll claim it was my good parenting when in reality we all know you can't nail jello to the wall, it's gotta stick on its own.

A Van

Sonny and Edgar both went with me to Gito's wrestling match and I'd sent Sonny back later to pick Gito up after the mats were all rolled up, I needed to be home tending to business.

Sonny called from his cell and told me there was a banged-up, suspicious looking van at the end of our dirt road, looked like it had wrecked, should he call 911?

"Is anyone in it?" I asked.

"I don't know, I didn't know if I should have stopped to check," he replied, this being nearly 10 at night on a very dark road.

"Well come get me and I'll ride back up there with you," I told him, then as Gito gets out of the truck and I get in, I gotta wonder if this is a good idea. Gito was telling me that the front and sides of this van were all banged up.

When we got back up there, it was gone...ok, good, I have enough monkey business to attend to, I'd just been in a squabble on the phone with a grown son; Edgar and I had hissed at each other in church on Sunday, he'd gotten up and moved on the other side of Chuck and Yolie just to let me know how annoyed he was with me at the moment.

Our darling pastor's wife had walked up, before the service started, right in the middle of our spat, being sweet to Edgar, who answered her through clenched teeth, nearly making me bust out laughing, but why antagonize him more? We'd made up by the time Ms.Carr came by, hugging and snickering at each other's bad attitudes.

I seem to always be on Sonny's case, but he needs it, he usually responds well, and if it isn't me dogging him, it's his girlfriend, Erica. Me reminding him, "oh well son, you chose a strong woman, you know you needed reinforcements," and I'm thinking hmm, Jesse did the same, but I can hear him hollering now, "Uh-uh mom, I'M the strong one," not realizing I am again complimenting him on his smart choice in a wife.

So Sonny's working, getting caught up on his bills, acting right, Edgar's doing well at work, Miriam's driving her ownself now, freeing me up at 9 p.m. each night, coming upstairs to let me know she's home safely, and Gito is super involved with his wrestling team, so it appears as if life is right calm for the moment.

However, Fabian has court today on his various charges, I have no idea how this will pan out, it is out of my hands.

My cell phone, held together with a rubber band, not working anyway...I'm not due for the new one for another 8 days, unless I want to pay a boatload. Duh, I don't, Lord knows what messages are piling up in it.

Joey, Part 10,000

And from Barbara, in Omaho, in regards to Joey, "Remember, these kiddo's are survivors; I am convinced they will make it under conditions that would make you and I buckle. Plus, he's had Res. TX. and most importantly HOME for some period of these 8 years. He had God made real to him, a supportive Church family, his sibs, and you as his Mama. I believe that undercover, in spite of his rebellious, frantic, violent ways, he has been healing, bit by bit. God has him exactly where he needs to be, to learn, grow, and is being given even more chances to heal. I believe that by 30, ya'll will see him become the successful man he is meant to be. I truly believe that, even if he falter, falls, struggles...in the end, I believe he will make it..."

I gotta believe this also as I sometimes question, wonder and even, at times, despair, of ever having my kids turn out normal.

Joey's be-bopping around town, happy as clam, fairly responsibility-less while I agonize over his choices.

I gotta learn to let go and let God.

Comments Out Loud

(It's Tabby's baby doll with paint all over it)

Linda writes, "Five not so good placements in her first 10 mos of life. Then came to us. Not an older child adoption, but I've learned damage can be done already."

I remember reading about that when I started my adoption journey, that even babies noticed a change in caretakers, young babies grieved and that needed to be addressed. I must have mulled that thought over for years, then my first three new daughters arrived, ages 7, 9 and 11, from Honduras, full of grief. They'd left a good family, their birth mother voluntarily gave up her three youngest daughters in the hopes they could escape the grinding poverty there.

I've heard from more and more new people as I've been blogging on the other site, I'm hearing tons of interesting stories, questions and concerns in the adoption world. It truly is a different planet. I appreciate the feedback, the gratitude, and also the information that I receive.

Speaking of feedback, Wendy pointed out something I'd totally missed in my own assessment of our situation. In her words, "Cindy, I have understood it in this way, the kids came from emotional war zones. Their lives were full of chaos, uncertainy, abuses etc. That is they “normal” what their little minds perceived to be “the way things are supposed to be”. They come to our homes and it is nice, and different. They try to re create their “normal” in our homes. The very sad part to this is, we do take on some of their “normal” They do adjust our lives so much, that, when the kids eventually do come more to our “normal” we have also accepted some of theirs. So…when our homes become more peaceful, we bring in more kids with issues to re create the “war zone”, because we kind of get used to the kids “normal”. Does this make any sense? I heard this a bit from you when you were jokingly stating it was time to adopt more."

So on target.

Broken Braces

Martin's brand new braces have already sprung a bracket, making us have to drive to town early this morning to get them fixed, less than 12 hours after they'd been put on his teeth. Today is his 8th anniversary of living with me; he, Tony, Teresa and Joey. Joey, not knowing the significance of today, has already called and emailed yesterday, doing right good on his own, making me think we should have done this sooner, maybe I was enabling him to remain infantile.

It is also Jesse, Sonny, Gito and Alex's 12th anniversary as well. I'm going to celebrate by attending Gito's wrestling match this evening. I wish Jesse was here to go with me, hopefully Sonny'll be off work by then.

I'm headed to town yet again, to go out to eat with a friend. Sarah's going to keep Tabby and Nando here playing with Ray, Martin's teeth and gums hurt so he's upstairs sleeping it off, missing school.

Lily and I planted pepper seeds and more tomato seeds in flats yesterday, one flat already sprouted and under grow lights, my way of continuing my gardening therapy.

I Dunno

This is CW on an adventure at the other end of our dirt road and this picture has nothing to do with this post.

I was asked today, "Can you help me to understand why a kid with RAD or with any attachment disorders would "make you pay" with a rage because you rewarded them for their good behavior? It does make sense to reward good behavior. "

You're right, Linda, that would make sense. In the real world.

But many kids, not just the RAD and attachment disordered ones, from the system often feel so internally worthless, that they do not deserve to be rewarded because they are worthless.

It nearly angers them to be rewarded, it goes against their grain. A parent recognizing goodness in them is literally frightening to them.

I still don't have a grasp on this yet. It doesn't make sense to me either. But I've had kids in various therapies for years and I've learned a good bit from the experts in this area. Not only do I not really know why they act this way, I also do not know how to change this illogical behavior except for possibly waiting them out.

Maybe after years of me not backing down from a positive reward system, something will stick? I dunno.

Teresa is my first, and my only seriously attachment disordered child so I am way behind in this learning curve. The IFI team (Intensive Family Intervention) comes to our house, and one lady in particular, Miss Pat, is so on target, able to pinpoint what I usually don't see through the smokescreens around here.

I suppose I just can't explain this at all, I'm just reporting what we experience.