Gardening in Slow Mo

I feel as if I'm planting my garden in sloooooow motion. I used to work on weekends, sunup to sundown, I could quickly plant a very large garden. Now at age 52 with 39 kids, I get interrupted every ten seconds or so and my dumb hens have been unplanting peppers at an alarming rate. The grandbabies are learning to not walk on the raised beds, my 30 year attempt at permaculture, and the strawberries have been delicious. Javy helped himself to radishes, what a blessing that I don't use pesticides, the kids help themselves and munch away...we'll discuss acid rain at a later time. My leaf lettuce is in great shape, I plant many varieties, but Black Seeded Simpson is my all-time favorite, something I've served to Sarah all her life with a vinegary dressing.

Everything I've ever planted here needs to be divided, watered, weeded or mulched, but I need to do laundry and keep buying groceries. I keep digging up new beds and now I have so many, that I'm behind everywhere I look. Way to up my frustration factor.

My feces smearer is at it again, I confronted him last night. Edgar moving out has made this young teen emotionally iffy once again, none of my children do well with loss at all. The new grandbabies coming should offer this obsessed-with-poop guy some internal reassurance.

The Army pulled Daniel's wisdom teeth. Using his cell phone he sent me pictures of his chipmunk look, drugged up and misspelling 'chipmunk' wasn't like him at all. At least though, now in his AIT School, he is allowed to use his cell phone, that Basic Training isolation drove me nuts, I'm probably more dependent on him than he is on me. He asked me to not post the pictures, they were merely a successful sympathy inducing ploy.

With all Edgar's drama, Daniel's calmness is what I've needed these last couple of days. A son without mama issues, Daniel has zero fears that I'd ever not love him. He doesn't worry about that anymore than he'd worry about taking his next breath. I tell Edgar all the time that I love him, it's never enough.

Sonny too is cement solid. Rounding up the Bubbas yesterday after church, working on a brick and stone pathway, they ended the evening flying a kite out in the meadow that Sonny had, kickball past dark, and everyone then settled down peacefully for the night, allowing me to watch trash TV (Desperate Housewives)for an hour until Edgar called again about a phone number I didn't have. Son, that's what phone books are for, that's why learning about alphabetical order pays off. Duh.

Soccer, Water and Cars

Four soccer games, three at the same time at three different fields up and down the highway; frustration in action. CW's birth dad, Wesley, covered one game for me, fortunately Monica and Dewayne also came. Vanessa went to one game and I went to another, all of us went to the last game...there's just no other way to get this done. I don't want to tell the kids that they can't play because I can't get to everything. I let them play and it's then on me to fly, flit and flutter between as many games as possible. Usually they don't conflict so much.

I took Edgar on a Personal Finance Tour into the car market yesterday, his head is spinning and he made no major purchase. Fortunately he's saved a good bit of money, he could buy a car for cash but he was wanting a better car. I think he should pay cash, but it's his money. He does usually listen to reason to some degree.

A pipe broke, the yard flooded, the well spewed precious water while we're in a drought. Nearly sent me over the edge but fortunately I know a wonderful plumber who got off his tractor, two counties away, and came over to our house. I'd shut off all the water to our house, a stopgap measure at best, then everyone wanted to go Number 2, of course. Y'all we can't flush.

We're headed to church, I know I have a lot to be thankful for this morning.

A Miracle

Working in the garden late yesterday evening, all the way back near the middle blueberry bushes, the cell phone in my pocket rang.

"Your son has been in an accident."

My mind raced everywhere, thinking where each older son was supposed to be at that moment, "Which son?" I tried not to scream.

"Edgar." She told me which country road to come down, and I heard her say to him, "Keep your eyes open, stay with me Edgar."

I couldn't get any air in my lungs, I went into shock mode. CW ran ahead of me into the house telling Yolie and Deysi while I quickly changed clothes. Gito, Vanessa and Miriam somehow beat me to the car, a sherif's deputy passing us soon with his lights on.

I came up on the scene, 6 police cars, a fire truck, an ambulance and several First Responders trucks; my heart slamming all the way seemed to simply stop then, and Miriam mumbled, "Breathe, Mom."

Edgar was on a stretcher and the First Responder guy saw me coming up all shaking and scared, "Cindy, he's going to be fine."

His car had hit a tree and a mailbox. It had flipped several times and rolled over down a 25 foot embankment landing upside down and crushed in a creek. The lady who'd called me had been working nearby in her garden, otherwise this accident could have gone undetected quite awhile, there were a million ways this could have been awful. The deputies were amazed to find him OK, his seat belt easily saved his life. There wasn't a cut on him and all his windows were broken out.

They sent him to the hospital, sure there must be internal injuries or something, but three hours later he was released with a good report.

You'd think some deep gratitude to God would be in order, an acknowledgement to the mama he'd spent three weeks trying to emotionally and hatefully reject. But no, he went into a terribly black, bad mood, angering Miriam, being rude to me so I just shut down emotionally, fighting tears until late in the night in my room when I couldn't sleep. I certainly prayed it through, I'm grateful beyond belief that he wasn't hurt.

He came home with us, went straight to bed while a bunch of very frightened children gathered around me wanting to know everything. Sarah had come back over to tend to them, they're comfortable and reassured when she's here. Later, around 10, CW came to my room in tears, expressing his fears, something Edgar is so emotionally unable to do.

I was up fretting most of the night, now I feel like I've been hit by a truck, adrenaline gone, fatigue left in its place, emotionally clobbered to pieces.

Four soccer games to face today, and if Edgar is receptive to a Mama, I need to guide him in getting a new, used car. I suppose his phone's in the creek also, there's something else to deal with, but Praise God, I am not dealing with a funeral. The state trooper who showed up said, "Boy, this looked like a morgue accident," putting my perspective into place.

In For The Long Haul Y'all

That'll be my 17th grandchild that Jesse told us about yesterday, changing my life in many ways as I transition from Big Mama to Abuelita many times over. I still have a four and five year old at home, also a 6 year old, and other elementary school age children, further weirding out my life. Tia Tabby with 17 nieces and nephews before 2007 ends. Maybe 18 as we wait out the results of someones else's life here with our family.

My grown kids, teaching me more each day about the continued need for a Mama in their lives, indeed I speak to Sarah (33) first thing each morning, Yolie (27) has usually called me by 8, I don't call her because I don't want to disturb any precious sleep she may be enjoying. Her high blood pressure has now resulted in several hospitalizations, but we learned yesterday that she'll be induced on May 3rd, sharing a birthday with my darling son-in-law, Preston, who'll be 41, and my gorgeous grandbaby Heidi, who be 5.

Monica (23) found out she's having a very large baby, maybe 10 or 11 pounds. This from my former failure-to-thrive syndrome child. Monica, in shock, passed her cell phone to me when the doctor had called, explaining that this baby will likely be induced in early July, due to it's large size and Monica's small frame. Monica's birth sister, Cristy (30) birthed three large babies, Cristy is barely 95 pounds.

Deysi (30) is clinging emotionally to me after her marriage imploded, she's here everyday, getting comfort from the other older kids who've stood up so well for her, there when she's needed them. Marcela (26) has been here for supper several times this week, checking on Deysi, helping with Alexander.

Sonny (20) has been glued to me lately while Edgar (20) is pushing me away, yet coming over every afternoon, pointedly ignoring me though, he's even pushed away Miriam who is his everything.

He'll soon cross over though into that grown up arena where one doesn't doubt my love and commitment, he's just not there yet. I've been texting him reassurance yet he's responded coldly to me. Abandonment and rejection issues screaming from his eyes, yet blatantly resisting the urge to either hug me or respond to me. Fine, son, I'll wait you out, I'm patient, and I am emotionally strong.

Sergi (25) just left for work, "love you Mom," going out the door, knowing I'll be here when he gets home, but that assurance has taken nearly 20 years.

I wake up each morning, my first thought is Carolina made it through the night, I'm on pins and needles waiting for her and Jose to call me, ready to birth their fifth child.

I might be the most blessed woman on earth. This morning it feels like it.

Jesse's Great News and Funny Names

Instead of having a cow, Jesse called me today from Texas...so much better than when the phone calls came from Iraq...to tell me his good news.

He's already picked out a boy's name but if he has a baby girl, he said he'd have to name her either Gito or Sonny.

A Beautiful Day in the Garden

This is chocolate mint and it is rampant. I spend more time pulling it up than I do in drying it's leaves. When I pull it up though, it perfumes the air and that's why I love it.

Knowing I'll be gone all day tomorrow I've tried to plant as much as possible today, it's been a beautiful day, the kind of day I adore, when I can pick fresh spinach, eat strawberries while I work, and listen to my Ipod.

Having A Cow

Nothing is cuter than a little baby boy with wings. But I can hear Jesse having a cow..."Mom, he's boy!"

The next picture will undoubtedly release a herd of cows in Jesse.

Not Likely

A comment asks, "How old is too old?" in the world of adopting older children and, at the risk of repeating myself, which I have to do knowing there are new readers here constantly, and I'm wanting to encourage them, I'd have to venture a guess in the early teens. Some of my most wonderful kids joined our family at 12 and 13, the oldest siblings in a group of kids. They were usually relieved to turn over parental duties to me at the time.

When I received that question I felt bad for my own meltdown yesterday, fearing I'd turned someone off to adoption yet another comment encouraged me. Someone wrote that even when bitter I was still inspirational.

I suppose it's because even when tired, bitter and perturbed, I still don't quit.

This morning was much better than yesterday morning. Everyone on task, to a certain degree, I was printing out stuff for CW and Chuy that should have been done last night, Lily was too spacey to brush her hair correctly; but there were no hoochy outfit attempts, no crybaby fuss-outs, and everyone made it out the door on time.

Edgar got an apartment yesterday. I, of course, already miss him. I don't miss his silent treatment nor his rudeness lately, as he struggled with growing up, but I miss him deeply. I simply love him and have enjoyed`raising him. The empty nest syndrome would wipe me out if it were even a remote possibility. I sat at a soccer game last night thinking about it.

It would better for all of us if the moving out were less stressful, but my kids still struggle with abandonment and rejection. Jesse had called me yesterday from Texas, knowing he's still my son. I wish I could inject that confidence into Edgar at the moment, but Jesse's had a lot more years of this knowledge.

Before bed Jose asked, "What are you going to do when we all move out?"

I gave him a very long list including Braves spring training, horticultural tours and grandchildren soccer schedules. "Are you kidding me son? If all y'all only have two kids each, that's still 78 schedules for me to jockey. Heck, Carolina's fixing to have her fifth child, and Saray's already had three, ya think I'm gonna get bored? Not likely."

Look Who Is Bitter Now

I'm starting to sound bi-polar, happy and motivated at times, then crashingly frustrated, but such is my life. I'm sure, at least, that other adoptive parents understand this.

To give one's all, one's everything at all times, no matter what, only to have disobedience, defiance and resentment in return, can make one become bitter as heck. When everything seems to be an issue, everything a battle, it is phenomenally frustrating.

Sometimes I want to pack up the "good kids" the ones that truly love me, or at least don't openly hate me, and I want to run to the hills, to live in peace.

I'd told someone recently, someone that I respected, that I'm not certain I'd encourage any of my children to adopt older children; literally I am deeply concerned over what this has done to my own physical and mental health. This person that I so look up to, told me he wouldn't necessarily encourage his son to go into the ministry either.

Wow and Ouch.

We want to protect our children from being hurt. It galls me to think of how my kids would emotionally suffer if they adopted older kids, knowing how badly, meanly and hatefully those kids would lash out.

This preacher knows how much a congregation, even the guy who puts a dollar in the plate, thinks that they can then dump their resentments at life out on the pastor since they "pay" him. I'm a preacher's kid, I know how this is.

What makes people think it is OK to ever lash out at anyone for any reason?

I am a person, a living, breathing human being and I have poured out everything into my children; all that I have and more. I've been nothing but good to them, treated them well, and taken care of them...yet they've poured out so much ugliness and hatred on me. How much can I take? Why should I continue when I know there's so much more negativity to come? Even when grown, they think they can dump on me like I'm a public toilet.

They want to hurt me as they've been hurt, so maybe I can understand then how much they were hurt? Well what if you destroy me? Then what? Then you don't have the only one who ever stood by you.

One day a grown kid worried aloud about the violence in another kid, afraid I was in danger, and under all that stress, my first thought was well then I'd have some peace if I forcefully left this earth. That's a little pathetic, isn't it?

As I stand by one right now who's in turmoil, the siblings of that one, realizing how that same child has been hateful, but then again, there's mom doing what Mom does, loves them through the issues...but can I continue giving of myself in the face of such opposition? What if I shut down? What if I don't bounce back?

Am I sending the wrong message? This unconditional love? Should there be some reciprocity, respect, or at the very least an iota of consideration of me?

I want to build a gate at the end of the driveway, slam it shut, lock it, and not let anyone in who has an attitude...take your ill will elsewhere, dump on someone else...get over it, grow UP.

But then what do I do with the haters who live with me? Who don't give a crap that I've spent every penny that I have on them, that there's a roof over their heads and clothes to wear...yet they punch a wall if asked to do one simple chore? Can you imagine what I want to scream back at them?

But that's the difference. I don't, I won't scream my resentment back at them for their piss poor treatment of me. I keep forcing myself to care in the face of massive oppositional fury, rage and defiance.

Yolie reminded me that most parents have 5-10 years of such stress whereas I've already spent decades immersed in it, with no immediate relief in sight. I always hesitate to publish such a negative blog yet I'm also wanting to show reality.

Here's the bottom line, what if I begged Sarah not to adopt and she missed out on a Daniel? What if I become the naysayer that I once refused to listen to? What if I shoot off my frustrated mouth here and I cost someone a Yolie? Or a Sabrina? Or a Chuy? Or a fill-in-the-blank?

Get a grip Big Mama.

This is Improvement?

On any day of the week Jose's (not pictured here)behavior could be considered way past odd, into the realm of wierdly peculiar.

Yesterday was no exception.

Five years ago he moved in, LOC 3, 8 years old, taking all sorts of meds such as Depakote, Remeron, and I can't remember what else. I slowly weaned him as his rages then were impressive, what good could the meds have been doing? When he was finally off medications there seemed to be no difference in his behaviors other than he'd started to improve somewhat.

He's a pretty good kid now, few rages, but his logic is terribly skewed, consequences don't mesh with behaviors in his churning mind, and he often feels somewhat persecuted. His mumbling, lost-in-his-own world behaviors make him stick out on the playground, but he doesn't notice.

Yesterday afternoon he was extremely helpful, but later got into an argument over the garden hose. Before he really got angry, he'd tossed an old broom in the air and it landed with a sickening crash on the top of my greenhouse that bears the improbable unbreakable claim.

It didn't break, but I did.

I went into a spiel about, "This is why we don't throw things...what were you thinking? (Always a dumb question on my part that presupposes thinking was remotely involved)...as I fought tears of rage over that impending disaster that didn't happen anyway.

Jose stormed off, Gito immediately went after him, but I stopped him, "let him go cool off." I kept on planting, hoping to calm down my ownself.

Years ago this would have boiled over for hours and hours, yet within just two hours Jose had calmed down and apologized just in time for his baby brother, Jonathan, to lose it over who got flatten the cardboard for recycling.

When that was extinguished, I went into a teaching moment about respecting authority, following rules and let's go eat some cheesecake.

Joey being in jail, Fabian unable to live within our family because of his violence, and Teresa being sent away for extreme stealing...all of those children being held accountable, given consequences, has made an impression on the rest of my children. Scotty had a crybaby fit later, but got himself together, realizing that he had it pretty good overall getting to live with his three birth siblings here at home.

I know that Sunday should be a day of rest. I know that. But 25 or so people need to eat, can't leave the kitchen like that, 10 loads of laundry can't be left to mutate, the peppers don't plant themselves, and parenting is 24-7. There's still plenty of work left to do the next day.

Yolie's Original Baby Daniel

Yolie's normally about 30% this big, another week or ten days and the baby'll finally be here.

Daniel left this afternoon to return to Ft. Gordon, I hate saying goodbye, but my pride in him is enormous. We're getting to know his girlfriend and I'm liking her a lot, I'm not just saying that because she's read this blog before. If Daniel is happy, then I'm happy as she's spectacularly drama-free, very pretty and nice.

I'd had to be late to church service, running some frozen stuff back home once again from Ed, and Preston's mom took charge, settling down my kids in the sanctuary, I came flying in after praise and worship had already started. I'd been waylaid on the run into the church by a man telling me about the rich people's Goodwill store. Huh? I'd slammed my breaks on and backed my butt up to listen. He told me about an Atlanta area Goodwill where the rich people donated. There's a thought.

In all our soccer business yesterday we encountered a German umpire, odd in a small Southern county, my hillbilly drawling Mexican son, Martin, had hollered to me, "Listen to that man's accent!"

Boy you think if you went up north people wouldn't notice yours?

Finally this afternoon I'd gotten to plant several trays of tomatoes and peppers, some tomatoes I'd grown in flats and transplanted to large plastic yogurt tubs and some to clay pots. Interestingly the clay pot tomatoes had twice the root mass.

Sonny's girlfriend, Erica, sent me over a couple dozen bags of leaves, pure gold to me, who doesn't go nutso over leaf mold? I could hardly sleep for planning where I'd use them all, but today I revised it ten times, wanting the exact right spot which ended up being inside tomato cages. You can't buy happiness like that.

As the kids and I were dragging the sacks to the big back garden, we saw our first large black snake of the season. Easily as long as Tabby, Sonny grabbed it by it's tail and took it up to the second meadow. I'm fairly sure it was an eastern indigo snake and it's protected because it's a threatened species. They can grow to nearly nine feet long around here. We have one in the front woods that can stretch the width of the road, only a few of us have seen it as it's reclusive.

AIT School

I'm loving the AIT school that Daniel is at, Fort Gordon, just two hours away, he's home again this weekend. Sitting at my kitchen counter, eating burritos, and shooting off that smart mouth of his...Lord have mercy, I could live like this. I miss him every single day.

Yolie's blood pressure was high, she had a headache and needed to get out of her house, so I went to get her, bring her here with Daniel, knowing she'd then be happy. They are both intelligent and gifted, yet I believe they'd not been such successes without each other in their lives. He was then a cute 6 year old, she was 11, an older kid. The chances of being adopted together seemed slim at the time, I submitted the only home study.

I thought she was just as cute, there wasn't a bone in my body that didn't want to adopt an eleven year old then, she sure didn't want to be adopted, but she wanted to be with her brothers. What adoptive parents often overlook is the fact that the oldest in a sibling group can be their greatest ally, obviously Yolie is even more to me than that.

Carolina had come by, also due to have her baby very soon, plus Sarah and Monica had both had doctor appointments yesterday.

I'd awoken at 2:40 this morning so I walked all over my house, checking on everyone, all was well and I watched TV until I feel back asleep only to have a 4 a.m. phone call jolt me up. Not a pregnant daughter, but a mother (Deysi) wondering if I had any baby tylenol at my house. Honey, no stores are open but by sunrise I'd headed to two different convenient stores.

Soccer pictures today, we don't buy them as they cost too much, but since we're half of every team, our absence would spoil the team shot so I had to add four different photo sessions to the four game schedules on three different fields. I'm half way through the schedule today, a two hour break now and we are stuffing our faces at home rather than pay snack bar prices, get real, and then we'll head back out, me looking over my shoulder longingly at my gardens.

Future Teenagers

"If a problem has no solution, it may not be a problem, but a fact - not to be solved, but to be coped with over time."
Shimon Peres

Like I need something else to think about, I do read motivational quotes, thoughts and sayings each day. I certainly need to work on building myself up, strengthening myself to face each day and it's many problems.

Future teenagers, pictured above, two sweet granddaughters, Heidi and Kortney, what if I don't truly get to appreciate all the fruits of my labors until this next generation? I'd willingly pay that price. This generation now living at my house, came to me so hurt and traumatized, yet I've watched them grow up, to try and parent their children calmly and carefully. That's very rewarding to me.

I thought it was Saturday when my eyes shot open at five this morning, it wasn't until I'd opened my laptop that I figured out the difference, I'm trying to spend my early mornings writing, allowing for garden time later. I feel so frustrated by the end of each day, when all the time has slipped away, and I've not accomplished what I thought I should have gotten done.

No sugar snap peas yet, we've lost all blueberries and figs to that horrible cold spell in early April, I don't ever remember this happening before, but the lettuce and spinach looks good, and I have hundreds of tomatoes and peppers to put out only to be stymied by our drought now. Jeepers, as if I don't have enough challenges in life? No wonder I head straight for the motivational tomes.

The kids are calm though, sweet even, not a rebellious one at the moment under age 18. Today is Senior Skip Day and Miriam was irked that I wouldn't let her participate, she pulled the wailing chant out, "But mom, everyone is doing it," like that'd sway me?

"Uh-uh girlfriend, you're not skipping."

I"m 18, I can do what I want!"

"Not here you can't, get an apartment, pay your own bills, and I'll be happy then to allow you to do what you want." BTDT child.

I am unbudgeable, you'd think that they'd get that by now.

Being a Mexican Family

My first ex-husband sent this to Sarah today, probably wondering if it was approrpiate enough for me. I cracked up when Sarah read it aloud to me.

A Kentucky couple, both bonified rednecks, had 9 children. They went to the doctor to see about getting the husband "fixed."

The doctor gladly started the required procedure and asked them what finally made them make the decision--why after nine children, would they choose to do this. The husband & wife replied that they had read in a recent article that one out of every ten children being born in the United States was Mexican, and they didn't want to take a chance on having a Mexican baby because neither of them could speak Spanish.

And our phone rang, a local CPS office, "Cindy, do you do any foster care? We have three kids, 16, 16 and 14 that only speak Spanish."

Although my heart breaks for those three boys, there's no way I'd even attempt that, I have girls ages 12, 13, 16 and 18. No thank you. Also, I'm just not up to it, my commitment level would not be there, but the amount of children in foster care, or awaiting adoption, or orphans in the world staggers me.

Domestic Violence

I really do try and calm down over stuff before I blog about it, I have a huge temper, but I need to model, to the kids, some self-control.

Last week my 4'11" very petite daughter found out that her husband, the father of their 19 month old son, had another girlfriend and a 6 month old baby. Reacting in utter shock, she slapped him, her fingernails left a teensy tiny mark, he called the police, Mr. Big Shot, a foot taller and very strong, and she was arrested for domestic violence.

She called me from the jail in tears and grief, no bond for 24 hours, giving everyone time to cool off. I exploded, "Where's the baby?" and I went to my son-in-law's place of business telling the two security guards they best give me either a supervisor or my son-in-law. I was absolutely vibrating with rage. My son-in-law went white with shock seeing me there; this is not something I'd normally do.

Afraid that he'd take my grandson and flee to Mexico, I stood in the parking lot in fury, telling Carlos that the baby was going with me that day. Reasonably sure I meant business, he relented.

The judge has a no contact order now, I'm the third party and I've calmed down somewhat. None of our family saw this coming. My daughter has a degree in sociology, and she's lost her job now over this incident, she has a mess to untangle. A female deputy had told her, "Honey, I'd have beat the sh*t outta that fool!"

Another baby? What was he thinking?

Again, her family has rallied around her, we'll get through this ordeal as well.

Sarah's Mama

After my own petty frustration over a hair cut appointment that didn't materialize, I stomped out to the garden for a solid five hours of work that made me feel great.

Sarah was sitting out there and talking to me when Jose stormed up after school, with his MAD on, fists clenched, face balled up, only to smile and ask, "How may I help you Mom?"

Sarah bout fell off her seat and Jose hauled wood chips to the bed I'm going to fill with hundreds of pepper plants.

Sarah and I talked almost all day, not unusual for us, but we discussed all I didn't know when I was barely 19 years old, holding a baby, wondering which end to diaper...dadgum cloth diapers at that. I learned so much from parenting her, she turned out fine in spite of my many mis-steps but raising her also cemented my feelings about kids needing a parent, not a friend.

We also spoke about how I so didn't understand the impact that adoption would have on a birth child. That's a whole 'nother blog.

Prom? Or Not?

Sabrina, telling me about a book she was reading, reminded me how little I get to read anymore. Once my primary source of entertainment, now a luxury. Thank goodness for the internet, I do get to scan newspapers and magazines each morning, something I like to do before the kids get up.

I adore my turbo coffee and getting a dry toilet seat, it's not that difficult to make me happy.

A teacher called yesterday to inform me that Miriam's Senioritis is overtaking her usual good sense, she owes some assignments in an elective class. I suppose she's thinking it isn't all that important in the grand scheme of an 18 year old's life? She told the teacher she worked a lot of hours and just couldn't get it done.

I reset the teacher's opinion, "Oh no honey! She likes to run around with her friends, she doesn't work that hard. If she wants to go to prom this weekend, I'd best have an email from you telling me all assignments are turned in."

Big Mama don't play.

Sarah commented to Miriam, "I'd get it done if I were you, I remember missing my junior prom." Yeah because Sarah skipped school that day. Yolie chimed in, mentioning she'd also missed hers, but none of us could remember why.

The thing is, by me holding them accountable, they learned it while living at home, they became excellent adults.

I pointed that out yesterday to Yolie, but she already knew if I hadn't been so strict with her, she wouldn't be where she is now as a homeowning stay-at-home, college educated mom to this darling son of hers. Same goes for Sarah. Yolie had tested my patience as a teen, wanting to date boys I didn't approve of, I held my ground, and I've been rewarded...but more so has Yolie been blessed.

This high blood pressure of hers is tough though. I'd gone to her house yesterday to bring her and CJ over. CJ needed to get outside, to play with the kids. Yolie laying on her left side, heck she can do that as good over here as she can at her own house.

Nicole

I have really been upset over this young girl's death for a couple of months now, too upset to say much about it, knowing that words are so inadequate. I'd then asked for prayer for an Idaho family, it was when this happened.

I still feel helpless and inadequate.

My prayers are with the family.

Virginia Tech

I'm so grieved over the Virginia Tech murders. My niece's boyfriend goes there as did my brother-in-law and my one of my dearest high school friends, Dottie. She's the one who majored in Horticulture and had a majorly huge influence on me becoming a gardener. I remember spending a weekend with her, when Sarah was two years old, crawling all over the mountains in Blacksburg hunting plant sepcimens. I also went to college in Virginia(ODU)before returning to Georgia for my other degrees.

My own petty problems seem so small in comparison.

It's been a week now since our last disaster, we've been rallying around Deysi, the fallout continues, she's possibly lost her job.

Yolie's better now, the stomach bug still making its way through our family and finally the wierd weather is improving. I think I'm going to weed and plant all day, to think and process life through my brain the best that I can.

Daughter Time

Just as Yolie holds my hand through the adoption world, provides all sorts of logic to a befuddled mom at times, so too does Sarah provide strength and calmness in my life.

I have 18 daughters, all very different and unique, interesting and complex, and it was Sarah that jumped into my mind this morning when I'd read this particular article. "Just 1.3 percent of imported fish, vegetables, fruit and other foods are inspected - yet those government inspections regularly reveal food unfit for human consumption."

For two thin women, we're pretty obsessed with food. But it is good food, real food that's on our minds. I'd told her recently about my concerns with produce that's shipped from places where they still use DDT, and of course we're both conscious of the 100 mile diet.

It's certainly been a daughter dominated weekend. Saray came from Jonesboro, with her three children, even Marcela spent the night, hunkered down with Deysi and her son, here at Big Mama's house after such a stress-filled week. Saray and Marcela are helping Deysi get her life back to normal, Sonny too has been awesome, jumping to help Deysi out at every turn. When these girls were teenagers, Sonny was a young little brother, looking up to them in awe. Now he's the tall helpful one, worried about some of the stuff in their lives.

Monica and Dewayne were here also as Kortney wanted some Tabby Time on Saturday. On Sunday Dewayne's mom, Georgetta, and brother joined us for church, as did Preston's mom Edith. Our church's second service was packed, no empty seats, making me notice how many people are hungry for meaning in their lives.

Everyone came over for Sunday dinner and I cooked for hours. Vanessa has been glued to Yolie's side, trying to see her through this preclampsia in her late pregnancy; Miriam, Mayra, Sabrina helping me at home with all our company.

Edgar, in contrast, looking foolishly estranged over nothing. That 20 year old "I'm a grown man syndrome" all talk, no action. Again, it's time to get an apartment big enough to contain that attitude, it's not acceptable in my house. Proclaiming himself to be a Mama's Boy, yet clueless over his own presenting contradictory behaviors.

Deysi, Alexander, Saray, Gianni, Heidi, Isaac and Marcela are all still here, but it's early Monday morning and time to get back to the work week and reality.

One thing I've always preached around here is that life is hard enough when one is striving to remain within the will of God. Step out of His will and it's even tougher. Saray telling me last night, "No kidding Mom, you sure were right about that." Can I get a big DUH from someone?

But this is my bottom line, my total assurance from God, where faith plays the main role in my life always giving me the drive and the determination, the strength to continue each day, the pure T undiluted belief that I'm doing what I am supposed to do.

Update on Yolie

One of my five misbehaving, carefree dogs, pictured here by Vanessa for some odd reason, doesn't give a good cahoot that I'm worried about Yolie, Carolina and Deysi right now. Sarah and Monica are having healthy normal pregnancies thankfully, and it's only Yolie's high blood pressure causing problems for her, but these are significant issues. Ray ended up with that stomach bug too since he is usually playing with Tabby and Nando, I'm praying Sarah doesn't come down with it.

Yolie spent several hours at the hospital last night, best case scenario is for the baby to wait maybe 10 more days for good lung development and for Yolie's blood pressure to stay down.

I really won't know much until after church. I was so concerned last night that I called Daniel, something I don't do during his army training, but we'd talked earlier and I knew his schedule. I knew he'd want to know and that he'd pray for her.

Thanks to all y'all as well for the prayers. One comment from Mammy pointed out our constant struggles. Interestingly enough, it doesn't feel like it is constant since I don't blog the thousand good things each day, all the grandchildren I'm so surrounded by, and the sweetness I see so often.

Once again Buddy the Bread Man, via Ed, sent us a ton of boxes full of bread, rolls, tortillas, flatbreads, and even frozen unsweetened fruit. Grandma baked apples and cinnamon in large pans last night for us all while I remain flabbergasted at the generosity.

Viper Girl shed her skin once again, metamorphosing into a helpful daughter once again as fast as I can mix metaphors, she changed into helpfulness for Yolie. Stayed with her yesterday, helping, fetching, cleaning and tending to CJ who adores her.

Praying For Yolie Again

Soccer is kicking our collective butts. Lord have mercy, this next six weeks'll be strenuous.

Kortney was here today with her Tia Tabby all afternoon.

Yolie is headed to the hospital for her high blood pressure, it spikes if she so much as sits up. It's 8 pm and I've called Sarah and Daniel to pray for her...I'm on pins and needles waiting for a word from her.

Where Life Took Us

Maybe ten or so years ago, who knows how long as my years are flying past me, but Devin, Millie and I all worked at the same high school. They were, and still are, young and pretty, and I was, and still am, a very goofy dork. I adored both of them and Devin is now pregnant with her sixth child. She's still gorgeous, willowy and so dadgum nice that I could only strive to be like her. I've been giggling over this post she wrote and thinking about where the years have brought all three of us.

No way, a decade ago, could we have imagined the twists, the turns, the challenges, the roads taken, and where we each ended up. This is why God doesn't let us see ahead very far, we'd be overwhelmed at the thought, yet in retrospect we've all handled everything that was thrown at us or given to us. We sure didn't know that Diedra, Arnita, Laura and Bonnie would leave this world. Four young women, in their 30s and 40s, on the staff and faculty, plus Pat who was before their time...don't tell me there's not a link here.

Millie was then childless, and my Biggers (the older girls) thought her husband was a hottie. Millie and her hottie had two beautiful kids, then undertook a long, challenging venture into the adoption worl; showing patience beyond belief, and finally brought home their little girl, Irina. What a testament to their faith. I wouldn't have stuck it out like they did, I would have thrown a fit and gotten nowhere. Of course their maturity and their patience was rewarded.

But now the real adveture begins and I'm encouraging Millie to write her thoughts, she now has so many arenas she's entering into, so many trial and travails, gains and losses...it's a wild world she stepped into.

The freeze also killed off a large portion of Georgia's $60 million-a-year blueberry crop.

Like I didn't have enough to worry about? Our weather has been bonkers, a heat wave in February and March, a cold April, I lost the tomatoes in the greenhouse, and I've been too busy to eat, much less replant. Now is when I crave garden time the most, I need to calm down and there's nothing like weeding to help me work through some problems. I am picking fresh spinach, that cheers me up, but I never got my sugar snap snow peas planted. Naturally I'd also planted another two dozen blueberry bushes.

There's two separate medically needy babies that I am trying to match in Adopt America Network, one is a Downs Syndrome baby that needs a particularly specific family situation which rules out all of my waiting families, and the other baby will be born with missing limbs.

And I think I have problems? That's a little bit self-obsessed of me. I am perfectly healthy, and fairly capable, and I need to remember that and count my blessings.

Reading the blog that I have yet to link, broke my heart this morning as Claudia's did yesterday. Tina called wanting to go with me to a ladies brunch at my church which set me to giggling. Like we have time? She has 15 demanding kids and health issues right now that would stagger a "normal" person and I questioned her about our ability to act right in public. We'd giggle and whisper, be smart alecky anyway, I have four soccer games that day, there's prom that night, plus Miriam and Vanessa have Saturday School for texting each other in class. Tina, I'm not sure we qualify as "ladies."

A very virulent stomach bug is coursing through our county, the pediatrician told Yolie yesterday that it is highly contagious and I, of course, forgot that when I kissed CJ on the lips last night after he'd puked. Oops. But I almost never ever get sick. Tony however puked all night, Sonny was watching TV late into the night and he took care of Tony, letting me sleep, I didn't even find out about this until Tony reported it this morning. He's looking a fine shade a deep green.

CW barfed yesterday, Paloma the day before, I see Jack going down and I'm glad it is Friday. CRCT tests are next week and our county takes them very seriously, as they should, I hope and pray that this bug runs its course fast.

Clarification

I should have written more clearly...it's neither Yolie nor Sarah going through a divorce.

Praying for Yolie

The good news is that my daughter is in good shape after her horrible ordeal this week. Considering her world crashed down on her, thinking about being a single parent now and untangling a mess, she's been amazingly strong. Her baby sister taking charge and making lists.

She's spent all her time with me these last few days, clinging past age 30, but who doesn't need their mom? Heck I'm 52 and I still need mine.

Her son is basking in the Bubba's world, running everywhere with them, excited to be included in their games, and he's taken our minds off the problems.

Yolie needs prayer now, her blood pressure is alarmingly high, just as it was before CJ was born. In her 35th week of pregnancy, this isn't what she needed right now. We need prayer for the baby to not be born for a couple more weeks.

Carolina has held up well, she's supposed to deliver after Yolie, but who knows as this is her fifth baby. That leaves Monica, then Sarah...

As the dust and the fallout begin to settle I am helping my daughter find a new normal, we sat up late last night with her sister, writing a list and making contingency plans as her world has been shattered.

On the edge of my life, out of the corner of my eye, I have other children jumping around, causing problems, and working through their issues in public. Dr. Mandy and I had talked about how everyone on earth needs a therapist; everyone has issues, if only stemming from hurt remarks or hurt feelings. How does one deal with people constantly trying to hurt them? Hurt them for helping, for being there?

I have to force myself each day to get up, get going and tend to everything; figuratively putting out fires and coming up with Plans B,C, D...

It's a full time endeavor.

The other day, before the all this started, I chowed down the tamales that Carolina had brought me from an Atlanta El Salvadoran restaurant, it was the last thing I chewed very well for several days.

This morning I absolutely craved whole wheat spaghetti, heavy on the garlic, and doused with the fire pepper sauce I found frozen in the freezer, in a baggie since it is so thick and chunky. Sure cleared my head this morning.

Good thing too as I have huge emotional demands on me, Edgar still being hateful which makes no sense...just move out if you have such animosity towards me, there's the door, please use it.

I live with everyone's resentment, the older kids mad that I still love them, shuffling their anger at the birth parents and redirecting it at me. Furious at me because I didn't do what the bio parents did to them. They want to hurt someone, like they've been hurt. "See how it feels? Now do you understand my pain routine?" Unspoken but acted out. It's safe to be angry with me...but it wears me down so much.

My phone rings constantly, I hate to answer it.

What a Mess

It's here

Oh crap

I ran into a friend last night, Jessi, who knows all my kids, and as she was asking about them, she quickly came to realize that I truly do only blog a small percentage of what goes on around here, otherwise blogging would be a fulltime job.

I didn't make it to Atlanta as a family disaster (that did not involve any pregnant daughters) took precedence, demanding my time and attention.

I have to finish taking care of it today, the repercussions though are going to be lengthy and hurtful. I'll blog more later...

Here's The Door....

A high school Beta Club, the next county over once again provided my family with Easter baskets...an understatement of the provision actually. They were indeed Easter baskets but they were massively overloaded with candy and toys. The kind of treats I could never dream of providing for my children, the kind of treats that remind my children how many people do care about them. Nearly filling up my father's Suburban, when he picked up the baskets from Miss Lisa who is the connecting link, my children know not to dog me for stuff like this, knowing I can't afford it, and they are very good about not begging for stuff, to then have their dreams fulfilled like this is remarkable. Thank you Miss Ginger and class!

It's Tuesday before I could even post the Easter pictures, soccer has kicked in plus I have three kids on two different church league softball teams, one game not even staring until after nine last night, I'm running between fields, finding everyone's equipment and cheering wholeheartedly. I love positive endeavors like this.

I'm rushing to Atlanta today for an 11 o'clock with Alex, three soccer practices tonight...in the extra three minutes I might have, I plan to blog on the other site, do the laundry, drag all my plants back outside after our horrid cold snap that broke records and killed my early stuff, and fix supper.

Vanessa and Edgar aren't speaking to me. Whenever they misbehave, that is how they react, in rude, simmering hateful silence, knowing I'm disappointed; they flounce around and grow angrier at me for not being sucked into a big fight with them. They were not role models for Fabian this weekend, if anything they were detrimental to his progress, both of them confused at the role reversal with Fabian clinging to me while they acted ostracized. A self-imposed position for the two of them, now as the days pass they look even more foolish which only spurs them into deeper hard-headed negative behaviors; Miriam is coming out smelling like a rose since she chose to not participate in their shenanigans.

I'm clear about one thing though, if you can't follow my rules in my house, you are more than welcome to move out, get an apartment and follow your own rules. I'll still be your loving mother, but it'll be better for the both of us when you take your misdirected rebellion against nothing elsewhere.

There's nothing sillier looking than a so-called grown up living in their Mama's house and rebelling. Chose Plan B, move out, then I won't get on your nerves with my love and logic, my insisting on responsibility and accountability. Duh.

Grow up.

Easter AfterShocks

Gina and Monica, 29 and 23, pictured here with Monica's husband's cousin, knowing that 18 ago they were in foster care, after a disrupted adoption, and facing being torn apart if no one would adopt all four. They were my first four from the system, my introduction into the world of traumatized children, and I was woefully unprepared. I had the head knowledge from my MAPP classes, but the heart knowledge came slowly, and only through the experiences we underwent together as a family.

Their 25 year old brother, after four years in the Navy, is again living at home with m;, their other sister, Cristy, now 30, is married and living in town.

My first adoption had been an international one, from Honduras, in the 1980s.

Monica spent Easter Day with me, reminiscing and struggling verbally with the gaps in her past, before she was adopted, and with how she feels now as a grown up. Apologizing for a rough spell we'd had a couple of years ago, knowing I'd forgive, I always do. Pregnant and introspective, she had a lot to unravel in her mind, making for an interesting conversation.

She was visibly irked with Viper Girl, the one who'd coiled up in reaction to her birth brother, Fabian, doing well in his therapeutic placement. Hissing and spitting, she made for a very unpleasant Easter afternoon.

Edgar was even worse, he so needs to move out, I'm not holding him back, I wish he'd go, he's not a positive role model, and he needs to go out and learn about the cold, cruel world. He's being hateful to make it easier on himself in leaving me, BTDT son, you better try harder than that if you want a reaction outta me.

Fabian was bewildered by the turmoil, fortunately he maintained his own emotions for once.

Had a son-in-law decide he needs time and space, so our family is rallying around his wife and son, taking up the slack, being supportive and loving...except for Vanessa and Edgar who have their respective panties in a wad, selfish and hateful...it must suck to live like that, to be surrounded internally by insecurities and ugly behavior.

Easter Morning 2007

Tabby got an oatmeal bath because she'd gotten a contact dermatitus rash (translation unknown), and none of the stoppers are in any of our bathrooms anymore, the kitchen sink is a better post from which to boss all her siblings around anyway.

For someone who's lived like this for so long, I'd have thought I'd have seen this coming...but I didn't.

Fabian has been beautifully well-behaved, charming and sweet, quick to help, affectionate and loving. Not arguing for one second nor being smart-mouthed.

Vanessa and Edgar, on the other hand, have taken up the oppositional slack in a big way. Vanessa has had several impressive meltdowns yesterday, for no reason, over nothing. Miriam recoiled from this hissing snake, hollering, "What's wrong with you?" like a cobra could answer.

Slamming their bedroom door, Miriam literally scampered to me. Best I can figure, in Vanessa's mind, it must be even harder to deal with a "nice" Fabian. When he's awful, it is easy to send him away, not live with him, but now that he is acting so sweet, the thought of going several weeks between visits is causing her to act out. They are extremely close to each other, middle children in their sib group, middle kids in our family as well.

This time, Fabian will be the one who is glad to leave her, to go to a venom free camp with other juvenile delinquents, where what you see is what you get, versus this slithering emotional, hormonal mess here.

Same with Edgar. I finally snapped at him to just leave, go off somewhere, don't sit on my sofa complaining about my house. Telling him where the Midol is wouldn't have helped, walking away from the fray is often my best recourse knowing I'm too hot tempered anyway. Pushing my buttons is not man exercise, it's acting like a little toddler girl.

I'd taken the kids to an Easter Egg Hunt, put together beautifully as usual by Miss Lisa. Ed's widow Susan, also was involved, stuffing thousands of eggs with candy, delighting my children way more than many others, all this candy is a rare treat. I can hardly relay this story without crying, but Ed and the breadman, Buddy, ended up sending Easter money to my children. Best I understand the story (I was kind of in shock when Lisa and Susan were telling me), Ed had money in his pockets when he died that he owed Buddy, but Buddy wanted it given to my children, which is what Ed would have wanted. I was simply, at that moment, trying not to cry in front of Susan.

Lisa's friend at the high school, and the entire Beta Club, once again has provided Easter baskets for my children. It's early in the morning and I haven't brought them in from their hiding place, but my kids are gonna be thrilled while I sit in gratitude, marveling at all the blessings we've had lately.

Why Siblings Need To Stay Together

Seven years ago, then ages 3-13, now ages 10-20, a very emotionally challenged and challenging group, very, very bonded to each other, any one of them would simply have died without the others. I am not exaggerating.

I am so grateful that they were kept together, that through our monumental problems, so far we've prevailed.

We took this picture yesterday when Fabian came home, he feels their pride that he's trying harder to make it now, we're still a long way from bragging rights and we all know it.

Challenges...

So far with Fabian home, it has been fine. We've been busy, as usual, and that has helped. Our friend, Ed, who had passed away last week, still managed to send us a truckload of bread yesterday. The breadman contacted Miss Lisa, telling her how much Ed loved to help take care of the kids, how he had another load ready, I got to meet him and thank him as well. It set me to thinking all afternoon about how many people's lives Ed had impacted in such a positive manner. Isn't that what we all want people to remember us for?

Ms. Carr took Jonathan, Chuy and Scotty on a big adventure, to a nature center and she regaled us with their hilarity over going downtown, something we never do. They were high as kites with excitement, getting to spend time with her, doing something different, they'd even taken showers first. This is the kind of help that adoptive moms of large families truly need. I didn't even know I needed it until she started doing so with the aquarium trips, taking them where I just don't have the time, nor the money, to go, reinforcing their feelings of safety and security, answering their billion questions, and giving them the emotional support they need.

Monica and Dewayne brought his little cousins by, and Audrey came over, picking up Memaw from Yolie's house for me, I got to catch up on Audrey's life as well, heading to eastern Europe soon, how cool is that? When I was Audrey's age, I had a third grade child, my life has always been about being a mom, but when they are all grown, I've mentally listed some southern European garden tours I'm gonna join.

I'd told Audrey about a fellow social worker's blog, in some unknown state, that I loved to read. Reading it this morning, I discovered she'd touched on what Dr. Mandy and I had discussed yesterday about parenting.

Merilee, a baptised-by-fire mom, and I had also just talked about how difficult the children adopted within the last decade seemed to be, how intrinsically different they were than our earlier children. Dr. Mandy said the same thing but she covered all children she was seeing, not just the adopted ones which really set me to thinking about parents not parenting.

I'm sounding older and older everyday, but in my day, in the 1950s, defiance to one's parents was unheard of, we just didn't do that, or at least not until the 1960s when there was societal rebellion.

Nowadays parents seem to be so absentee, so involved in their own shallow pursuits of happiness, so uninvolved in their children's emotional needs. Kids can't raise themselves, they are not little adults, and we are not their friends. We are their parents, their guides, their role models and their rule enforcers until they internally develop their own abilities to make great choices.

I am not afraid of my children, and their anger at me, if I make a decision that they don't like. I know that I've made these decisions in their own best interests, and I've raised enough children to feel that I know what I'm doing with my over-protective, high-intensity involvement in their upbringing.

I was a very young parent when I started out, I wish I could go back and have been older when I had Sarah, so that I would have been less selfish and more mature, but I can't change history, and she did turn out perfectly I believ;, an educated, church-going, interesting and excellent stay-at-home mom and wife. I had to work in the school system, when she was growing up, she's smarter than I was, and started her own business that allows her to drag her mobile office over here, let Ray play, while she pumps out the work, stopping when he wants her to do so, a million times a day if necessary, the flexibility is awesome and admirable.

Dr. Mandy and I talked about materialism, how folks seem to think that's the answer to everything, yet they remain unhappy, never satisfied. I want to instill in my children that it's activities, altruism (like they've seen from Ed and from Ms. Carr and many others who've helped us) and positive, uplifting relationships that provide happiness; a strong faith, meeting challenges, and finding one's passions. Pretty high qualities to strive for, particularly when one considers I'm right now only at the stage of teaching some kids not to punch walls or smear feces.

Again...it's the challenges.

A reader emailed me last night wondering what I do about name calling, that it was rampant at her house.

Honey, here too, and I hate it. Other than me constantly reminding them that we don't call our siblings "stupid" or what have you, I don't have a solution. I've restricted privileges, and done the usual behavior modification techniques, but it seems to be a playground mentality that is common everywhere.

That doesn't make it right though, and it'll continue to be something that we work on constantly.

She also has a kid who takes the entire family down with his oppositional behavior. Hmmm, me too, and I'm certain that many readers here share her frustration. What I've noticed is that venting helps, she vented his behaviors articulately in her email, knowing I didn't have a solution either, just a listening ear, and a heart that understands her aggravation over it all.

Isn't it funny how none of us mind the physical work involved in large families? That's not the problem, we'd joyously continue with all that, but the ugliness that we have to endure so often, saps our will and our strength so badly.

My emotionally demanding, oppositional, uber-violent Fabian comes home in a few hours for three days, and I'm uncertain as to how our Easter weekend will be. He called last night and claimed he was doing good, I surely hope so. His older siblings Miriam, Vanessa and Edgar will help supervise him and keep him close. Edgar has a four day weekend, going all the time, but I see him back home every couple of hours or so.

Ms. Carr is bravely taking some Bubbas with her today to the Nature Center. I'd told her, warned her, that we'd been having an emotionally tricky week for some reason, I'd wanted a Spring Break of calmness, but maybe they're acting out over me being gone last week with Daniel, or seeing Daniel leave again, or over the price of barley in Pakistan this week? Who the heck knows? The wind blows and kids cloud up, the sun doesn't shine or the planets shift and I get a wall punched out. Such is our life.

Get a Clue

I REALLY miss Daniel. So if I miss him this much, and I used to be a regular kinda gal, imagine how much more so my children miss him. I let our McAfee subscription lapse as it is something Daniel tends to, fortunately after a virus crapped everything up this morning, Daniel had left me the password, etc to get it reinstalled. My nerves were shot to spit and Sarah actually got everything done correctly for me, apparently my computers needed her calm demeanor versus my irritability.

Our temperatures nosedived into the dead of winter range, further frustrating me.

I was reading an article that I probably can't paraphrase correctly, and can't find it online either, but it was in studying happiness. Most people ranked their favorite TV shows as happiness-inducers but when endorphins were taken into account, they were noticeably elevated when one was pursuing a favorite activity. For me that would mean gardening. When I hoot and holler that all I wanna do is get my butt outside to work, what I'm really saying is that I wanna go play. I equate garden work with play and gain a great deal of happiness and satisfaction plus I get food out of the deal. There's a win-win for ya.

Vanessa won an Ipod Nano and she's generously allowing me to download podcasts that are motivational and inspirational (OK Sarah's showing me how) which is something I've been needing in great supply lately as my energy and optimism get so sapped each day.

After me giving Gito a wonderful time, allowing him to miss school and hang with Daniel and I, he's been absolutely hateful in response. We got into it yesterday as he was angry that I wouldn't let him hit a 6 year old. DUH! The lack of reasoning abilities sends me bonkers. The level to which a child can become hateful to the only one that has ever provided for them, ever tended to them is shockingly awful, it's a cold, cruel world out there and I recommend learning some people skills first.

Eating Turds

"DUH!" I screamed out loud, "Justification, vindication, a BIG I told you so!" Exclamation marks be derned.

"Eating even small amounts of red meat daily can increase the risk of breast cancer by 56 per cent in older women, according to British research published today.

Researchers were quite surprised that only 2oz of red meat a day appeared to have an effect.

As little as 2oz (57g) of beef, lamb or pork a day showed an effect. Post-menopausal woman who ate larger amounts, 3.6oz (103g), of processed meats such as sausage, bacon, ham or pies had an increased risk of 64 per cent.

Even younger, pre-menopausal women had a slightly raised risk if they ate red meat daily, the study from the University of Leeds found."

The best thing I ever did for myself in my entire life was to not eat meat. I wouldn't eat a turd, why would I bite an animal on the butt?

Tears Are Good

Tears beat acting out, no doubt about it. In our family I'm finding that crying expresses every emotion under the sun from my children. I rarely see CW cry, here since birth, he has a very strong sense of who he is, super emotionally secure, and he possesses a cement strong sense of fairness. By contrast, Allen and Chuy, fifth graders as well, will cry at the drop of a hat, not having had their emotions dealt with properly until they moved here, still needing to go through the many developmental phases in life.

Chuy, less emotional, more rational due to his very high level of intelligence, had a rough day yesterday. He ended up ashamed of himself, apologizing to me, he looks up to Daniel and wants to be just like him. Having Daniel come and go this weekend is/was hard on Chuy. It was hard on me to say goodbye to him again, it must be devastating to formerly traumatized children.

And then there's Teresa...she always remained so spectacularly unattached to our family that we lived our lives with her only on the periphery. I logically expected that the kids would not now notice her absence much, but who am I kidding?

Their razor sharp antennae register one thing...a kid is gone, Danger, Danger, this could happen to any of us.

Oh boy.

Fabian has a weekend visit this Friday-Monday, he hasn't been here in months due to his violence, I'm certainly filled with trepedation over this as well.

I cried yesterday too. This is really, really a difficult existence at times, it is tough to function under the load and weight of resentment. Usually I can do it, better that I cried than act out.

Fortunately my big garden is my solace, Vanessa and I are designing some very large beds to go up in the fruit orchard for watermelons and cantaloupes, the very hard work makes me feel better about life, and the best news, for a dork like me, is that my riding mower was fixable for less than a hundred dollars. I gasped on the phone in surprise at the low fee, the lady laughed and said, "Honey we didn't give it cosmetic surgery. It is still beat up and bent, but it runs and it'll cut grass."

Kind of a metaphor for me.

Ragers All Day

I carried on this morning, fussing about kids who rage like tinderboxes if you look at them cross-eyed, and Tina came by later with several of her sons. Who else to better understand my horrible mood by then? Who else wouldn't have thought I'd simply gone round that bend?

Only a kid with 14 siblings, her son James, would turn to his own mother and remark that he wished they had more kids.

I was still barely calm after getting to talk to an adult, Sarah brought me a wonderful, spicy hot pasta dish she'd cooked that nearly did the trick, but Jose soon sent me bonkers for Round Three today...right before a Mental Health worker showed up about Teresa. Wish the lady could have seen my stomping, blithering self, hollering I wanted to quit being the mom to kids that I couldn't get through to.

Yolie was looking at me in alarm, but our real worry was in taking the pickax out of Jose's angry hands. I tried, he grabbed it back, but Vanessa swooped in and got it.

By the time the lady left, Jose inexplicably changed into clean clothes and asked to talk to me about his rage. I listened, he calmed down, and all I wanted to do was weed the strawberry beds.

Finally, I got a few minutes out there, made a little progress, and a big ole storm blew up and chased us all inside.

Yolie's Birthday

This morning Yolie's gonna crawl out of bed and realize she just turned 27. Feeling eleven months pregnant, chasing an almost two year old, strong-minded, determined toddler while she battles swollen feet, elevated blood pressure, and the effects of baby weight gain on all 4'11" of her body, squooshing her internal organs into pancakes...I'm not thinking she's going to want to go out and raucously celebrate this milestone today.

This last month of pregnancy is tough for her. Mayra went to help her out yesterday, at least to chase CJ so Yolie could lay on her left side and keep her feet elevated. We're on Spring Break (naturally a cold snap is headed our way) and Yolie deeply misses Daniel, adding to her touchy mood.

When Yolie was 11, she was sent to Georgia with Daniel and Joe to live with me, nearly forcefully put on the plane, not wanting to leave El Paso, not understanding anything at all; angry, sullen and defiant.

Super intelligent, she quickly picked up on my commitment. Initially a rough placement as my marriage imploded within the next year, we moved to the house we're still in...technically the divorce proved to the kids that I was stronger than anyone thought...she masterminded The Biggers (Deysi, Saray, etc) Rebellion, stirred 'em all up for years, but overall her silliness and her brilliance made her a leader in our family.

Back then, at age 11, hardened and mature, having suffered too much, she seemed much older. Looking at other 11 year olds, there's no comparison...Tony is 11, yet acts 2; when Yolie was 11, she seemed matronly in contrast.

Today she probably feels older than me, but soon with her second beautiful child, she'll bounce back with that resilience so often lacking in survivors of childhood trauma. Yolie has it, she passed it, spread it, and shared it with her siblings, both birth and adopted. Don't trade sob stories with this winner.

Maintaining her leadership qualities, she's been a great example to my other kids. She's been my right hand, my translator and my confidant.

Today she probably feels 77 instead of 27, but this is just a slump, a small price to pay for having beautiful kids, easy for me to say, tough for her to go through.

Hang in there girlfriend, I love you, we all do, and we're greatly blessed to have you in our lives.

We bought both these indoor tents at a yard sale for $1 each and somehow they've not yet been destroyed within the couple of weeks we've had them. How can that be when solid wooden doors sometimes have less of a life span here?

Obviously Tabby's hairbrush is challenged.

Alyssa, Joe's daughter, and Kortney, Monica's child, looks up to their Aunt Tabby, a role she's relishing...considering she's the baby at home. Ray Ray, as well, thinks she's the coolest.

A married couple, kin to me, got into a tiff and came running to me about it. Irony upon irony, "You want me to help? With my marriage track record? I can't even keep a straight face here, y'all work it out." I was speaking in italics, perturbed enough to stress every other word it seemed.

Jeepers.

The kids have the week off from school, they've eaten everything they've seen, I have to get to the store, and dadgum, our lows at night, been in the 60s, will dip to the 30s by the end of the week. How can that be? I need to plant everything on Godd Friday. Tradition should outweigh weather patterns.

Hard Workers

Knowing I was coming in to Columbus late Wednesday night, not having gotten a hotel reservation...like I had time to worry about that? Knowing I was leaving a scared, yet angry mob of young'uns, Chuck, already there with Yolie for Daniel's Beret Ceremony, called around and found me an inexpensive, very nice place to stay.

He's just like that, always thinking of others, looking out for everyone else, he missed several days of his own demanding work at a landscape architectural firm for this trip, knowing Yolie dearly wanted to go, 8 months pregnant or not, she was GOING to see her baby brother, Daniel.

On weekends Chuck is in the middle of establishing his own business, hiring my sons and sons-in law.

Carlos, Deysi's husband, works all week at his job, weekend days with Chuck, weekend nights he works security for a Mexican business. Three jobs in all.

People complaining about legal and illegal immigrants coming to the U.S. sucking social services, when all I see are hard working Hispanics, paying taxes, sending tons of money back to Mexico. Hmmm, wait a minute, I have three Mexican sons serving, or having served, in the armed forces to defend people's rights to say that kind of stupid stuff. I see a little bit of irony here...

Regaining Our Momentum

Gito and Daniel, on the banks of the Chattahoochee River, Alabama across it, acting like they're as thrilled as I was to see the historic district in Columbus, GA. Daniel was just happy to be off the base.

After my meticulously planned 48 hour absence from home, my return to hugs and kisses, I also received the usual resulting, inevitable meltdowns. Kids who'd been holding their emotions in check, let loose on me. Even Memaw (Sabrina) a paragon of easy-going sunshine, got sent to her room for her little snit. Javy, Chuy and Gito got into it...hmm Gito, you were with me, what's up with that? CW, of all people, was rude, but apologized quickly, and Scotty and Nando had crybaby fits.

I'm 48 hours behind on the work, even though my mom had tried to keep up with the laundry, at first everyone was helpful, but that too disintegrated.

A group case of "You SAID you'd never leave us!" mentality, not realizing that there will be times that my momentary absence is unavoidable.

I finally stomped off to the fruit orchard to finish clearing the area I'm going to plant heavily in blueberries, trailed by a grumbling bunch of mentally off, discombobulated sons, I ignored the impending mutiny, and worked my butt off, eventually when they saw all was well, the kids followed suit, regaining their better dispositions.

Fortunately Sonny got off work early. Working already that morning for Chuck in landscape, he bounded up the hill grinning like a banshee, wanting to be project foreman on this job. Chuck had dug up and sent me a 12 foot blue spruce on Joe's truck, I love a back wall of various evergreens out in the first meadow. Vanessa wanted to outman Sonny and plant it, but relented within minutes, as our drought laden land is rock hard.

We did get it all done and Pepe (Jose) surprised the entire family by being my right hand man at supper while I fried up everyone's favorite corn tortillas stuffed with cheese and beans. When I'd earlier attempted to circumvent an obviously impending emotional storm from a non-verbal, possibly Asperger's Syndrome Jose, he'd snapped at me, "You just don't know what it feels like," in regards to losing caretakers and learning to trust me (after five years). The longest explanation I'd ever received from him, surprisingly on target, then he glued himself to me for the rest of the day, rather out of character for a kid who usually wanders off on imaginary bug collecting expeditions.

My friend, Emily, topped the evening off later as she'd brought by buckets of Italian ice left over from an adoption fundraising event. My kids chowed down happily.