Pastor Terry's Family

It's only fitting to end this year with a family picture of some folks that have been in our lives for a very long time and have prayed over our family on many occasions.

Pastor Anthony far left and his wife Jessie, in particular, helped us pray Big Joe through his years of rebellion. Joe and I were just talking about that and how his daughter Alyssa forced him to immediately become a man, and how he has done so, Thank God.

Sarah blogged about the New year's dinner that I doubt I'll cook what with me being contrary, ornery and contentious, a benefit of being in one's 50s.

A beautiful day here, I weeded around my Martha Gonzalez rose, tucking her in with wood chips for the crappy winter month to come.

Sibling Losses Revisited Time and Time Again

He may be 22 and an Army man, but I still worry, like any good mama, when my son is out of town. Heck I still fret over Jesse, 25, married and in the Navy, been to the Mideast twice, simply because he's away from home. That's my nature plus I so miss him. Daniel and his friends have gone to New Orleans for the Sugar Bowl, we talked twice yesterday, and you can be dadgum sure I'll be calling him today and tomorrow.

Scotty put a piece of leftover pizza in the microwave without a plate so I corrected his behavior precipitating a screaming breakdown from him regarding such dumb butt rules. Rules? How about common sense or good manners? I was only on my first cup of coffee and totally unwilling to have to holler about stupid stuff, sent to his room where he hysterically screamed to no one, it took him 30 minutes to calm down. Like this is the real issue? Happy holidays son.

My 16 year old niece cried yesterday as she was leaving, prompting me to tears also. I never get to see them. Ellen had confided in me years ago, although she supported my adoptions she felt it would cut into our time together. Obviously we didn't know she'd soon die, I felt called to adoption and continued doing so.

I used to spend two weeks each summer with my brothers, sister and their families at the beach which we don't do anymore, haven't done so in eight years. Gary remarked yesterday that it seemed like a lot longer than 8 years, losing Ellen took the air out all of us, my family grew, and Gary's travels became extensive and demanding. No wonder Katie and I cried yesterday.

Then I cried again when Melissa met Monica. Read about it here as I'll cry if I have to type it again. I cannot imagine such sibling loss. This is why I adopt siblings so this won't happen but sometimes it is out of my hands, it's not possible for many reasons, and nearly all of my sibling groups here have other siblings somewhere.

Monica is deeply overwhelmed now on every level as is Gina. Sergi has emotionally and physically retreated, Cristy is hanging in there strong. My heart breaks for Melissa who will return to Texas without the presence of her birth siblings. My four kids have each other and the other 35 kids to lean on. Melissa too has other siblings back in Texas but they are removed from this situation. The witnesses to her pain and loss live here in Georgia. How is this fair to anyone involved? How do we help her recover? How will my kids cope?

It is heartbreaking. I felt like I was hugging one of my own children so striking is the physical resemblance. She's a sweetheart who has gone way too long now without knowing about these other four. Monica, the baby, will turn 24 next month, Sergi is 26, Gina will hit 30 this spring and Cristy 31. Melissa is 28.

It boggles my mind to think of the decisions made so long ago and the emotional ramifications today. I've spent almost 18 years with the other four children, helping them recover from their many, many loss issues and the scab was ripped off again as they gazed at this very pretty woman who looks and sounds so much like them.

I didn't even think to take pictures, I was fairly stunned my own self, I can't even begin to imagine how they felt. Monica had a wall of sisters in the room with her, she was frightened and wiped out, I'm angry on their behalf that there is this loss. This is so huge. My prayers are with Melissa, of course, as she returns to Texas and tries to make sense of all this, her loss is unimaginable.

Yolie and Joe went through this several years ago while Daniel chose to remain detached from a birth family situation. Joe went over to Cristy's house with Gina as a show of emotional support to her. He knows how she feels, he really does, I don't even pretend to comprehend the depth of all this.

Cristy and Melissa went over to Sarah's house later. Sarah called me absolutely stunned, Melissa's resemblances to her birth family is such that I know I could have picked her out of a crowd. Sarah has two half sisters and a half-brother in Virginia that she resembles, yet she's always seen them, sepnt time with them. and still does so... on some level she felt the pain of yesterday through her sisters here.

Yesterday was a right tough day. It hurt me to say goodbye to my brother who I've known for 52 years. My loss was nothing compared to my children not knowing their sister for 28 years. I may have lost my sister but I had her for nearly 40 years.

My heart breaks for all the sibling groups out there already divided up in foster care as often...no usually...they will remain spilt up forever. That simply sucks.

We're missing church today so I can hang with my brother another morning. We never miss church but I haven't seen him in two years, it may be another two years before he can drive down here again. He proposed a neato Eastern Shore (Virginia) boat trip that he wants Jimbo and I to accompany him on if we three can ever get a spare moment. My brother-in-law, Kevin, has now gotten season tickets to the Nationals, proposing a cool Braves-Nationals game that I love to see up there one day.

In the meantime, tomorrow will be a week since I've cranked up either the van or my truck to go anywhere at all. Gary, Mary and I walked three miles past the harvested cotton fields, talking like we've done for hundreds of years. This is a sacrifice I made when I adopted so many kids. Time with my own siblings is fleeting, but something I dearly look forward to. His wife, Mary, closest woman now to a sister to me, someone who remembers Ellen and loved her also, is someone I always want to be with, we used to walk for miles and miles on the beach over many years, since our early 20s.

They have three kids now 19, 16 and 12. They were playing soccer in the meadow last night past dark when Mary called them in, hollering their first and last names shocking my kids who somehow didn't realize that their last name is the same as ours.

Sometimes I really do wonder about my children.

Almost all of my grown kids have hung around for the past several days, knowing Gary and Mary are a longtime connection, someone they've spent time with on many beach trips over the years. This means a great deal to my grown children. I wish Jesse and Lena were here, they were once stationed very near to Gary and Mary and spent time with them over the years.

Today, this afternoon after Mary and Gary go home, we have a long lost birth sister meeting in my family room. She'd been adopted at birth, the middle child, my other four children in that group had suffered greatly in foster care. This middle child, now in her late 20s, found them and I'm looking forward to meeting her today. I've spoken with her on the phone before, this will be interesting. We've seen pictures, she's gorgeous, and she's just arrived from Houston.

But it's also the long arm of the birth mom syndrome, as Yolie's so succinctly paraphrased the ramifications of every such event. It never ends, it affects my entire family as my other kid's radars will be twitching, wondering how this will be handled, if it is an emotional threat and will there be fallout.

Of course there will be. Factor in the holidays, my brother leaving, all the kids and grandkids that have been here all week, Tabby slept until 11:30 the other morning, absolutely emotionally exhausted from all the fun and daring to believe that this is forever. I'd gone back to her room several times checking on her, she never sleeps late, usually hyper vigilant over all goings on, but she's played very hard and has been having fun.

She and Alyssa played all afternoon yesterday and now she's sitting next to me, thinking aloud that she wants Ray Ray to come play today, no shortage of relatives.

Get Human

Our home phone simply stopped ringing several weeks ago, blessing me with some much needed peace. We could make calls out and all my kids were calling my cell phone, but the thought of navigating through an automated Bell South help line got on my last nerve and I procrastinated for a month about calling for a repair.

Some genius has compiled a way around phone trees, a more more intelligent response than my own 'keep hitting operator' plan. Go to gethuman.com

After Christmas Family Time With No Drama

Paloma, pictured here with Sabrina, turns 11 this morning, slightly anti-climatic after Christmas, but here comes another sheet cake.

Saray, her husband Thoonya, Heidi, Gianni and Isaac came to visit yesterday along with her niece from T's side, Christina. Good thing too as Dewayne's daughter, Kortney, had to go back to her mom in Tennessee, breaking Tabby's heart. Tabby, Christina and Heidi, all age 5, played until late last night as Saray hung around waiting on my brother Gary to arrive from Virginia.

Knowing Saray loves burritos, I'd soaked and cooked 12 pounds of beans, processing them, and lightly frying tortillas on my huge black cast iron skillet, dousing them with my fire hot pepper sauce, making her homesick in just the first bite.

Daniel had come also to see everyone and rewire the new computers. "I can save you $161," he'd called and woke me up the other night.

"Fine, tell me in the morning," my brain totally disengaged, odd as money issues usually snap me around but Christmas had literally wiped me out and besides it was almost 11 at night. Jeepers, son.

He did so however, bagging and boxing up, returning stuff to Best Buy as he'd wired a new hub etc from used parts or something. He's so smart, his explanations leave this retired old media specialist in the dust.

He doesn't like to eat while he's working so I was feeding him last, re-firing up the skillet when a thunder storm blew up, and all our electricity went out. Solid, deep darkness out here in the country, 30 kids running around, Gina and Big Joe were here along with Sarah, Cristy, Marcela, Deysi, Yolie, Monica and Saray's family.

We scrambled around hunting candles, Daniel had EMC on speed dial...no electricity means no water as the well can't pump water by magic and, of course, Tabby immediately had to go poop, thus flushing away what little water remained in the tank.

It took over three hours for electricity to be restored, fortunately it was nearly 70 degrees yesterday so we didn't need the heaters.

I never did take a picture of Saray's family and by the time Gary got here they were leaving. Dadgum.

I hadn't seen my own brother in two years as he travels to Europe and China all the time, polar opposite of my life. He wishes he could stay home, but he's the director of sailing coaches in the Olympics that'll be held in Beijing this year, can't coordinate everyone from Virginia, gotta go to Asia constantly. His three daughters, all super high achievers, silently reminding me of my old life decades ago, grade grubbing, earning money and charging forward.

I suppose in my own muted way I'm still doing so. 'No guts no glory' now transposed to no glory and I left a foot of my guts in the hospital last year. But that's OK, I'm still gutsier than most normal folks I reckon. That's enough for me, scrambling all over the place, trying to make a living and raise all these hardheads into something successful, often against their wills, but looking at my grown kids yesterday, knowing how it is so all worth it in the end.

Travis and Kimberly should've seen the kids on those dance pads ALL DAY yesterday until late last night, thumping music from the 80s, sweating like piglets, doors flung open for a breeze, laughing their butts off when a Bigger (my grown girls) would try and dance.

You have to match your steps to the screen, Carolina and I squared off, much to everyone's guffaws. I lost, she won. I have neither rhythm nor coordination.

Kimberly & Travis

We've been so blessed this Christmas by several people. I've been amazed and thrilled as have the children. I'd even gotten the coolest garden tools from Miss Ellen, my tools are usually from yard sales, she brought over brand new, high quality ones that I put out just to gaze adoringly at them.

We are having a very strong morning thunderstorm at the moment with a heavy downpour which makes me smile, sheets of rain cascading down, creating small lakes in the meadow. I've complained enough about the severity of our drought, this is remarkable this morning.

Travis and Kimberly came by yesterday with a large flat screen TV, DVD, and PS2 for the children staggering us all. No, flooring us, stunning us and shocking us. He'd been using it for games but had another system and sent this to my kids. One of 18 kids while growing up in a large adoptive family, he gets it as does his wife who entertained my children with her dance steps for a game.

Marcela and Monica took Mayra and Sabrina shopping with their gift cards, putting them both in time-out at Old Navy for running through the store like over-stressed toddlers, Marcela in high gear, correcting the behavior of one of my grown kids, opening her mouth and releasing vocals remarkably similar to Big Mama. It's way more entertaining coming from her rather than me.

I love this idea and, of course, these lunchboxes, not that I ever go anywhere. I've not left my property since Monday morning, now it's Friday. To me, that's living. Marcela took a pile of books from here yesterday, she's read 15 in the last several weeks, telling me about curling up and enjoying herself after work, not going anywhere. I'm telling you, it's contagious.

Carolina made me a black bean sandwich with goat cheese, avocadoes and sour cream last night. I wonder why I'm gaining weight steadily. Not.

Skirmishing Through The Rest of Christmas Break

Yesterday we'd had a boatlaod of skirmishes and acting out, some of it just horsing around, but some of it was emotionally difficult, making me wonder when we can get back on schedule with Dr. Mandy. I'd encouraged her to take a break from us over the holidays, don't want to burn her out on our many issues and demands.

Fabian is still doing good, it'll be a week tomorrow and anyone can be good for a week. He has some heavy duty time hanging over his head if he gets arrested for anything, not really time but he's used up too many chances and he could get confined for a spell. He knows this and he's stated many times that he regrets having to be away from our family for so long. I pray he can maintain that thought when he gets angry about something. He's not emotionally ill in any way, no diagnoses that would frighten anyone, just some huge anger managament problems and conduct disorders that should/could be redirected and worked through in therapy over the years if he'll allow it.

When he's in a rage, he's blindly dangerous.

He's Edgar's younger brother which is in my favor as Edgar dearly wants Fabian to succeed.



In stark contrast here, I'm pictured with my parents, my only birth child, now 34 and her husband and children. Ray thinks my home is a circus, the Bubbas have greatly influenced him, and he only lives maybe a couple of hundred yards from us as the crow flies.

Our family is giggling over Ray's antics during our family photo, the birth grandson acting up, at one point he'd turned his back on the photographer so he could gaze at his large family.

My parents will be 78 this spring, strong and healthy, their house is attached to ours. My mom cooked at least half of the Christmas dinner I'd venture, she gardens, plays Bridge, and babysits if needed. I prefer for her and Dad to run errands and leave me here with the kids as they're (the kids, that is) so challenging. It's so much easier for Grandma to run out and get 6 gallons of milk than to have her referree someone's explosion around here. Grandpa took a vanload of recyling yesterday for me, allowing me to remain at home where I'm needed 24-7.

I'm literally asking for trouble if I go anywhere so I don't. I don't go anywhere. That's not a sacrifice for me at all. I'd rather be here than anywhere else. Watering my greenhouse yesterday with Tony helping, the arugula and baby leaf lettuces are up and happy, it was 95 degrees inside with no supplemental heating.

After Christmas Baby Melt-Downs

I can tell Christmas is over because Jonathan is literally bursting at his seams, wanting to rage. Refusing to clean his room this morning, provoking our hapless puppy, and picking at everyone knowing I'll need to redirect his behavior, thereby in his mind justifying his need to rage. I can not ignore what he's doing wrong as everyone looks to me to handle the situation. Jonathan is looking too, daring, me to cross him.

On the one hand I feel like ignoring him. Trying for 5 1/2 years is frustrating. Thinking that a child will never be able to make the connection between negative behavior and negative consequences makes me want to quit barking up this tree.

Late at night, accompanied by my insomnia, watching MSNBC's Lockdown, I can see how some of those criminals must have been as children, their behavior now as felons is no less immature and negative as it once must have been as a toddler.

Scotty burst into tears last night at his reasonable bedtime. Screaming and squalling over nothing, releasing his pent-up fears and feelings over a great Christmas Holiday yesterday. As always, fearing it'll end, feeble attempts to continuously sabotage his deeply-held feeling that he doesn't deserve all this.

Today Grandpa can drive my van to the Recycling Center over near Yolie's house as we have a load of cardboard, tin, glass and milk jugs to go. The house is in pretty good shape considering there were 50 folks here eating all day.

I need to revise a thought, there were 17 folks missing as Cristy's husband, Chris, was still down in Albany, Georgia last night.

We must have had four solid hours last night of a heavy rain. Now that's a wonderful Christmas gift for a drought-stricken state.

Yolie is wearing high heels in this picture of her with two Bubbas: Martin and JoJo. At 4'11", Yolie is tiny. Formidable as a giant to the children, they're always shocked to grow taller than her, they do so almost apologetically.

The picture I posted of our family was my own digital camera version. We had a professional picture done as well by the most gifted photographer on earth, on Christmas day he came over to our house and faced a pile of usually oppositional children. Ray Ray was his biggest challenge which forced smiles from everyone else. Had CJ not been asleep in Chuck's arms at the time, he might have been more contentious even than Ray. Who knows? If the wind blows differently it could have been Nando.

I simply cannot wait to see the picture that Dan took of us. The first large picture of us that includes my last four new children, they've been here nearly three yearts, it's about time.

Carolina's Family

Sarah's Family

Now I'm really done. Past the toughest part of the year for me. Today went smoothly. No drama, no conflicts.

Christmas '07

Missing 16 folks here: Jesse, Lena, Joe, Alyssa, Alex, Gito, Sonny, Teresa, Saray, T, Gianni, Isaac, Heidi, Joey, Jose and Sergi...but Merry Christmas from the rest of us.

Finding one of the new computers for $400 and Grandma's help with the others, we were able to set up a mini computer lab for the kids. Daniel spent all evening directing Bubbas, maintaining his famous calm demeanor, and setting everything up perfectly, spending the night and still asleep after that marathon.

Christmas was calm and the aftermath, right now, is getting on my last nerve. I think Christmas was marvelous so now they wrongly think it's time to make me pay for it. BHDT.

Beth's Family

Beth has a blog also right here and is an AAN specialist.

My Friend: Mary Gayle's Family

Monica's Family on Christmas Eve

Another Large Family

Devin's Family

This beautiful woman, Devin, birthed all these children, a rarity in my world.

When she left Georgia to return to Texas I cried like a baby. She reminds me of my late sister Ellen in so many ways.

I did it. I'm done. An early morning trip to Wal-Mart (in my pjs) finished us off, plus I bought enough groceries to not have to leave again until church next Sunday. I had two sheets of notes and lists, checking stuff off gleefully, running into folks I've known forever like Sarah's high school and middle school BF Tonya.

I nearly had a nutup myself because the Wal-Mart clerk told me that plant saucers were seasonal and they were stored outdoors. OK, it's a warm day, I can handle that so I ambled outdoors only to have another snippy clerk act as if a customer not shopping for Christmas lights must be a deluded nutbag.

Are you kidding me? If it weren't for plants, I'd likely be postal. How are houseplants seasonal? Bite me, I thought to myself, but I smiled with enough Christmas fake-cheer to get by without someone worrying about my mental health.

I got through Christmas debt free - using savings and Miss Ellen's husband's job and Sunday School class's generosity and our angel up north who prefers to remain anonymous. We're broke until payday, flat broke, but we have a ton of groceries, gas in the van, bills are paid and all is well.

Tomorrow's dinner is fixed, presents are wrapped, the kids are acting right good, Fabian cleaned the van without me asking or even thinking about it, our honeymoon period is going well, Monica babysat while I'd been gone for an hour to the store, Carolina is cooking tamales...Oh My Goodness - Life doesn't get any better than tamales for Christmas.

Holiday Hell - Part 25 or so

I crave my old garden magazines and books during this cold weather. It's taken me a spell though to find time to read Beautiful Madness: One Man's Journey Through Other People's Gardens. It's excellent and I'm savoring it as I go.

Gardeners are an odd lot, obsessed certainly and this author is a hoot, nailing our foibles perfectly. He'd interviewed an old country doctor in North Carolina who claims if he had a do-over, he'd have gone straight to horticulture school rather than med school. I so understand this thinking as it has taken over my life.

Plants are therapeutic. Period.

A young lady, Rachel, has been emailing me with questions. She's articulate and interesting, I'd love to share her story sometime here. Yesterday she asked me what do I do when my kids reject me and hate me. Claudia is deep in this right now with one of her children.

Not a heart-warming Christmas story here to share but a huge and glaring reality in the adoption of older children.

This is why we call it Holiday Hell. Our children are a cauldron of steaming pots of angry and resentful feelings. Their many Christmases before they moved in with me were awful. They have sad, traumatized memories and aren't a bit more willing to trust me than I'd trust a terrorist. Why should they? Even though I've spent years proving my commitment to them, why would they let go of their 'control' feelings? Why give me the power to hurt them? That's how they think.

I used to beat my head against the wall trying to verbally convince them that I'm for real. Maybe I'm just tired now from decades of this, or maybe I've learned finally that my actions speak louder than words.

My children lash out, just as Claudia's beautiful yet angry daughter is doing at the moment. My Vanessa may or may not show up tomorrow. But that won't hurt me like it once would have done. The best photographer in our state, maybe in the U.S., is coming to photograph our family as a gift tomorrow. I've wanted a McClure family picture for 25 years but I've known I couldn't afford him. Now I know that some of my kids will try and sabotage this, this is the nature of the beast. I have to not give them the power or control to do so.

I dearly want a picture of my 39 children. I won't get one. Deal with it. I'm the one who strong.

I've rearranged my expectation to "here's a picture of Christmas '07," and that's what I'll get. It'll be fantastic. I'm sorry that a few of my kids are still taking their anger out on me but I can't change that fact. I wish like crazy that Jesse and Lena could be here but they can't, they're way out there in Texas. I wish that a couple of my other kids hadn't made terrible choices or that mental illnesses wouldn't have kept them hospitalized this season.

Claudia's daughter does not hate her. She is only acting as if she does and this is a painful reality in the adoption of older children. Likely Salinda will turn herself around in the years to come and be one of Claudia's emotionally closest children someday if she, Claudia, hangs in there and I know she will. Salinda may not be able to live with them at some point but she can't make Claudia and Bart stop loving her although she'll surely try and create a self-fulfilling prophecy here.

Yes I get sad and angry. I lose weight, I've grown a tumor (last year), at times I can't sleep, I've fought depression (this year), I can't eat or digest food, I worry and fret, I despair and I get bitter. Who wouldn't?

I read my Bible, pray throughout the days and I work with my plants which give me a sense of success when they produce blooms and food. I concentrate hard on the children making good choices and I love the other children unconditionally even though there are times we need to be apart. Emotionally I'm not going anywhere away from them although they usually choose to leave me for a time.

Did I say this isn't easy? My new friend, Rachel, with whom I'm corresponding gets it. You'll be a great parent since I know you've been there, You'll intuitively understand and you're willing to do what it takes. You already know this won't be easy. 25 years ago I started out expecting immediate gratitude for me while teaching them about deferred gratitude - something I thought I understood.

Oh...now I get it.

Elves

If this doesn't make you crack up, then you need a doctor fast.

Left to Right Alana, Hazel Bay, Cindy Mae and Estrella

A Beautiful Radar Screen

Now this is a welcome sight to wake up and see.

Ten kids camped out in my room last night, they'd watched America's Most Wanted before bedtime and scared themselves silly. I'd snuck upstairs and watched a biography of Sandra Lee on Food Network - her drive and determination to succeed knocked my socks off, a very interesting woman.

I'd seen an advertisement for a show I'm surely gonna DVR, Jamie at Home. "Jamie's back doing what he does best - cooking at home with simple, accessible ingredients, including fruits and vegetables fresh from his backyard garden. In each episode, Jamie focuses on a specific ingredient and shows viewers several completely different recipes." They showed a glimpse of his garden and I was hooked.

I included that paragraph simply to remind my elderly self to remember to tell Sarah about it. Nearly every one of our conversations has an, "there was something else I meant to tell you..." component in it. Yolie too, interested in cooking and gardening as a way of life. Monica looks up to both Sarah and Yolie, figures it must be right if they do it.

Give me non-fiction any day of the week. The older I get the more I realize how little I know about anything, how short our time is on this fascinating earth, and how many interesting facets there are to life that I'll never have time to explore.

Tasers

The kids were watching some show on the History Channel about the marvels of electricity. Some criminal needed to be tasered and Sabrina said, "That'd be a perfect Christmas gift for Mom."

She's right.

Remember I lived with Joey for years, my bipolar felon son with a host of other diagnoses including intermittent rage disorder.

Allen and JoJo have been awful with Fabian home. Not acting glad that he's here, even though they are very happy to have him back with us. Their fear that he will mess up has caused their own defensive hackles to rise in self-preservation.

Edgar's been here a lot lately which soothes them, but they're both uneasy right now. Fabian is back in the bedroom talking Allen down.

Miriam, older and willing to emotionally invest again in Fabian is helpful to him while Mayra simply loves him. Vanessa is the seventh member of this prickly, emotionally difficult sibling group. Fighting her own demons at the moment, negative consequences for negative choices. Duh, I don't make the rules, I just follow them. You know, logic and all that.

Add in a huge dab of Holiday Hell, ain't we having fun?

The Shortest Day

Sarah updated her blog this afternoon reminding me that after today, the days will get longer until finally it'll be spring again.

My Primates and Our Adventures in Attachment

Barely a month after I turned five in 1959, I started kindergarten. I continuously went to school and college until I became a media specialist in the school system where I worked for 25 years, retiring only to still have children in the school system thus necessitating my need to get up and see the kids off to school each day. Tabby still has 13 more years of school so do the math and it'll be about 60 years for me, getting up, getting folks out the door to school on time. I'm fairly certain few other moms spend this many years doing so.

Why does my mind go there, why do I run such dumb number sequences through my puny brain? Rather, why fight it? This is how I function apparently. I'll simply go with the flow and continue to amuse myself.

My son, JoJo, (not pictured here) is about the cutest monkey I've ever seen. He's adorable, the baby of his sibling group, and has lived with me going on eight years. Emotionally he's a toddler. He melts down over any request made of him such as 'take a shower,' 'change your clothes,' or 'go to bed.' He's in therapy certainly and I constantly redirect or admonish him, last night's bedtime routine took two hours and he popped out of bed first thing this morning to cling to me on the sofa...this after aggravating me to pieces when I'm most tired in the evening. he's smart though lazy, affectionate yet annoying...complex and sweet.

Savannah got 7.12 INCHES of rain the other night, what wouldn't I do for that?

This TV writer's strike isn't bothering me at all, thank God for books. I'd said I was immune to spending binges unless I was in a garden store, but I must have plumb forgotten abut bookstores. Knowing myself, I rarely ever enter one as I'd see a deep need to buy ALL their books which would be ridiculous as I don't have the money and I still have a pile of yard sales books here I'm in the middle of at all times.

I had an interesting comment yesterday from someone, an executive director, who must work on the orangutans show...right, I'll adopt one. Like I don't already have enough destruction and potential mayhem?

I'd received an email asking how I dealt with rejection. It devastated me the first ten times, laid me low, made me question my purpose in life. Now it seems merely routine and expected, a rite of passage, part of the process. I'm not necessarily resigned to it but more so am able to understand how necessary it seems to be for my children's emotional growth.

Nowadays I'm able to step back and comprehend that it isn't about me, it springs from their own uncertainty and irrational fears. I know this lady who wrote to me hurts deeply, I don't mean to make light of that, I've been there. But I've also learned it turns around and my children who've successfully navigated through this phase, come back to me all the stronger in their love and bonding. Even Yolie rejected me for a time, with all her brains and education, it's part and parcel of the building blocks of attachment I believe. Even my children who find their birth parents, such as had happened to Yolie, they found her, at some point my children truly and finally understand that what happened back then was so not their fault.

Orangutans in Orange County

Martin set his alarm for 5, an hour before I got up, and walked across the dark way to the doublewide to ride with Dewayne to Tennessee this morning and bring Dewayne's daughter, Kortney, here for the holidays.

My baby brother, Jimbo, called late last night to inform me it was a rainy night in Georgia. This I knew, duh I'm glued to the radar screen, a frustrated meteorologist wannabe, but since Jimbo lives in Florida I took the bait, "How do you know boy?" I challenged the man who now has me hooked on a tall soy latte each morning.

"'Cause I'm cutting through Georgia to get to Tennessee to buy a right-hand driver conversion van, I'll come to your house tomorrow. Jack's gonna love this."

Glad to think he'd singlehandedly weaned me from my turbo heavy black coffee, only to have to disabuse him of the notion. My soy latte is an addition not a substitution for my high octane morning fuel. May I use two duhs in one post?

I got the kids hooked on Orangutan Island last night, I'd dvr'd it and we finally watched it. 16 kids, 14 and under plus me, glued and transfixed to the screen. What a wonderful production it is. Way closer to our lifestyle than The Real Housewives of Orange County.

I'm considered eccentric for parenting 39 kids yet these plasticized women are deemed glamorous and to be emulated? I truly envy the lady on Orangutan Island, her life is full and interesting, challenging each day. I'd watched a bit of that OC housewives show in culture shock one evening. Folks really live like that? It'd take more than a soy latte to get me through their dismal days.

I'm wearing the same pink ill-fitting fleece pjs I got from a bag recently. I'll change when I get a chance. Duh again. Yesterday morning I got out of the van and walked onto the schoolbus to introduce myself to my middle schooler's new bus driver. Mayra and Sabrina squealing, "No, Mom, don't get out!" The back of my uncombed hair sticking straight up, coffee breath and no make-up. Tough toenails, y'all's mom's an orangutan in the morning.

I'm debating in my mind several things to consider and reconsider for the New Year. How to best use my time to accomplish all I want to do each day, how to get services in place for my children and a couple of other things I'm mulling over in my mind. Revising my goals and getting excited about quite a few different possibilities.

Staying Home

Running all my dumb errands, home with ten tons of groceries by 11 this morning, feeling grateful that I don't have to go anywhere until 11 tomorrow when I go to pick up Fabian.

Monica, now living in the doublewide with her husband and children, pointed out that she'd not left our property since church on Sunday. "I love being here," she'd sighed to her husband, Dewayne. Even when she was a young child in our family, Monica was a homebody, rarely ever spending the night away from home, living with me until age 21, then just moving up the dirt road to Sarah's spare bedroom, eventually to go through the seemingly mandatory stupid rebellion and estrangement, shouting, "I don't need y'all," rejecting us before we could reject her.

The idiocy of this thinking is that I never reject anyone and they all know it, they've watched me time and time forgive my children for their acting out behaviors and push/pull malarkey.

I don't even bat an eye anymore when they reject me, knowing it won't last for long, that it seems to be a necessary step in establishing their independence. OK, push me away, I'll wait it out...it's so predictable that they nearly holler it on their way out, as if they're stifling a smile of The Mama's Gonna Say, "I told you so," Syndrome that has affected them all.

Sarah hates to go anywhere, preferring her beautiful house or else coming over here because Ray wants to play, still on our land. Yolie's fixing to build a house here too, probably breaking ground early next month.

We aren't too much like the Waltons until the kids grow old enough to stop rebelling against nothing and learn to appreciate being kin to folks who truly care about them.

Carolina and her five kids are happy as clams to be here with us nutbirds. Always entertaining at least, built in friends and many levels of close family to support them emotionally when Big Jose returns to El Salvador.

Today was the kid's last day of school, they'll come home full of cakes and candy this afternoon so I'm going to make some homemade veggie pizzas tonight to counteract the sugar rush.

I'm going to remain hopeful about Fabian's progress. I got a sweet Christmas card from my jailbird son Joey, expressing his love and (gasp) gratitude that I haven't bailed out on him. Sure won't bail him out though. See you in March son if you choose to act right. I'm not participating in his life otherwise...no criminal influence needed here with the Bubbas.

Baby Yolie Looking Like She Needs a Soy Latte

Two o'clock in the afternoon and I just got my lunch, having run all day. Paloma had an early morning meltdown and Nando joined her when he couldn't remember where he put his shoes.

Grandma and I tried to be outta here by 8:30 to do the Christmas shopping as painlessly as possible, but I immediately had a cow at Best Buy when they didn't have what they'd advertised. One Lopez guy, a friend of Edgar's, did his best to calm me down while I called Daniel, waking him up and whining about stupid stuff. Ever patient he reassured me, walked me through it and reminded me to get power strips also.

Mission accomplished so I ventured into Wal-Mart, ill as a hornet, running into folks I knew, just as frustrated shopping for one or two kids as I was with my houseful.

I treated myself to organic lettuce, an avocado, grape tomatoes, a cucumber and hot pepper cheese, running home to chop it up and douse it with balsamic vinegar and sunflower seeds, but now it's time to go pick up Tabby, wrap presents for the kid's white elephant youth group party tonight and get supper together as my elementary kids have a cast party to celebrate their hard work on the Christmas musical last Sunday.

The same Sunday my friend Robin turned her nose up at my soy latte that I'm hooked on, "Needs sugar," she'd protested, showing me her cup of milk with a swirly dash of coffee. Our pastor said it best, telling us he preferred coffee so strong that it needed to be sliced. I could use a slice right now but I generally cut myself off by eight each morning.

Stumbling Blocks

Other bloggers have described blogging as 'snippets of one's life' and I agree. Some major events that have happened around here lately can't, won't or shouldn't be blogged, at least not right now. Stuff from a couple of years ago is still not bloggable as the ramifications and fallouts from events prevent much disclosure.

I was at a facility today that I don't want to talk about. I watched a person cuss out an officer and refuse to comply with one simple request. This person needed to be taken down, these officers had neither guns, tasers nor pepper spray. The person was hollering about abuse yet she was being videotaped the entire time. It was obvious that she was non compliant and verbally abusive herself and the officers have videotaped proof that they'll show to a judge at some point. All I could think was I'm glad I'm not her mother. I have enough defiant children as it is. This was a large person.

I despair at times of getting my young children to understand that if they continue these oppositional behaviors, they will be locked up. One simply can't scream at a cop, "I'm not going to f&^%ing do what you say," and not expect a negative repercussion.

On another note, a town one nearby recently had a very disturbed person stab an off-duty police officer, leaving her in critical condition. The mom of the stabber was interviewed here, explaining how she'd sought help and treatment for years. I sympathize with this mother in a big way as I've often found myself begging professional folks to comprehend the danger that a person can present to others. All too often I get a, "well tough luck, you adopted him." Like his penchant for violence is my fault?

My most recently violent son will come back home from his Outdoor Therapeutic Camp this Friday for good. My prayers are that he has learned anger management, that he wants to spend what little childhood he has left properly with us, and that he has let God work on and heal his negative emotions. The logical side of me is wary and reluctant to trust. The bottom line is this is his last chance. He'll be 16 next month, he's on probation and could face a long term confinement if he breaks the law again.

I'm praying that he'll choose to be a success story. Lord knows we're due one soon.

A grown kid has wanted me to give verbal approval of a situation that clearly breaks one of God's commandments. No can do. Duh. We'd had a very long talk that got us nowhere. My kids have free will and can break these commandments if they choose to do so, but I refuse to ever compromise God's value system. Either way I still love my children. If they want to commit negative behaviors, then don't come crying to me and expect me to "fix" what they broke. Grown folks can't have it both ways.

In the last two years, a dozen of my children have broken my heart, broken the law and pushed my endurance to the limit. Nearly 1/3, and that doesn't count the daily skirmishes, these are the big events. I can dwell on these painful disappointments or I can remember that leaves more than 66% doing very well overall. I'll keep working to raise our average as I find these numbers unacceptable.

I'll not let my children hang on to their past trauma as excuses or obstacles. Let's turn these stumbling blocks into stepping stones.

I left the facility today after several hours, feeling deeply sad about bad choices and negative consequences. I was heartsick and desolate. I put in the above pictured CD to pump my deflated self back up to face the rest of today's challenges. Blasting the music, eating a 12 inch whole wheat veggie sandwich (Subway) with extra jalapenos, pepper jack cheese and spinach instead of that cruddy iceberg crap...I'm starting to feel human again. I swear I drank a half gallon of water which the wheat absorbed like a sponge and my belly is sticking out, I look like a Bubba.

Happiness

My frustration level is fairly high right now as I just spent the last hour and 45 minutes, full speed ahead, picking up stuff, sweeping, cleaning the kitchen, and doing laundry. We have so many clothes. I'm not complaining at all, I'm very grateful...way beyond grateful as this is a great many children to clothe.

We have plenty of toys thanks to yard sales and donations. The bottom line is we need nothing; absolutely nothing. We have way more than we need so I can't see going Christmas shopping just to buy more stuff that we neither need nor have anywhere to put more stuff. Everything we have ever needed, we've received one way or another.

I don't want to participate in commercialism, wrap stuff, and then have a pile of broken trash at the end of Christmas morning. Our overall holiday stress level is high anyway as anxiety and bad memories from the past flood their souls. Where would i find a babysitter anyway just so I could shop?

I am going to buy the computers that I've saved up for as the kids never trash the computers nor strow them everywhere. We've had relatively few problems with them going off into areas of the internet where they're not allowed, I've addressed it each time and taken away their privileges. Kids are quick to tattle on others here and the computers are in the family room in plain sight.

If a kid shuts a screen off when I walk in a room, it's an automatic 'you lose your time' option. I reserve the right to look over their shoulders and read IMs or chat boxes and if they cuss or the other person cusses or is any way inappropriate, then 'you lose your time' kicks in.

My older kids will get money for Christmas to do as they see fit. That's simply all I can do. I can't even shop for the grandkids as I neither have the time nor do I know what they want or need. I can either feel bad about it or remember that I've done more for their parents than any other human on earth, and this is the best that I can do. I'm not exactly wealthy either in cash nor in time availability. But it still stresses me out.

I want Christmas to be family time with great food not the 'gimmes.' I've known adults that still expect a non-existent fairyland time at Christmas where they unreasonably demand that their partners, spouses or children read their minds and bestow perfect gifts that express whatever they need expressing and when their falsely high odd inner demands are not met, because who could possibly do so, then they are crushed by their own heavily laden emotional and material gimmes.

Life is about relationships not stuff. It's about people who care and are there for you emotionally and physically. Just as I refuse to allow my children to stress about buying perfect gifts for me, as I know there are none, so too can I not make up for their lost Christmases and childhood trauma.

I can only continue to provide love and stability, to meet their needs and to teach them about the deeper meanings of life that are more fulfilling than stuff. Stuff will never make them happy, they'll never have enough, someone will always have more and duh you can't take it to Heaven with you anyway. It's just all rubble and straw in the end.

What's inside oneself, one's soul, is truly all that gets to go. That's where one's happiness resides.

Although it was meltdown city yesterday with even CW and Sabrina having fits and Jonathan screaming for an hour about bedtime. "Then I won't be in the Christmas play!"

We were supposed to all be working together to clean the house, but that's always a trigger. In their minds, if they rage, they'll get sent to their rooms and avoid chores. You think I won't wait? Then they still have to do their chores. Very small tasks that could get done quickly.

I watched America's Most Wanted with my older sons while Jonathan continued his diatribe, mainly angry because I insisted he clean his room, a 10 minute job at best but when one has tantrums, it stretched out into a six hour ordeal. My kids used to be afraid they'd see their birth parents on Cops, I'm fearing I'll see my kids on AMW if they don't ever learn to control their fury.

Getting it together this morning, sullenly Jonathan got into the shower, glowering at everyone but I refused to become engaged in a battle of wills, hoping Lisa had an understudy as Johnathan had a major role, and we had to leave the house at 7:45 to perform at both services.

The rest of my kids shoveled cereal into their mouths, showered, dressed and flew out the door happy that Lisa had promised egg biscuits between services.

They did a staggeringly good job, Lily had a solo and can really sing beautifully. Scotty was Joseph and Paloma was a narrator.

We filled up three longs rows, Sarah's family and Edith at first service, Grandma, Grandpa, Carolina's family, Monica's family and Joe and Alyssa plus all the rest of us.

Now I need to plan my strategy for next week, like Sharon I've done nothing in preparation and I hope everyone's seen Tina's good news. I added Dee's blog about Russian and Kaz adoptions last night while we emailed our glee at each other over the wonderful rain we got last night. The news said 1/2 an inch in our area, but my birdbath was totally filled, I'm thinking we got at least an inch.

I had just yesterday made a new garden bed behind the good greenhouse and filled it with leaves and woodchips, the rain matted it down perfectly, and the worms will till it for two months until I plant sugar snap snow peas there. It's so dadgum cold I had to crank the heaters up, yuck, windows shut, kids pooting, I can hardly breathe.

Sarah blogged hilariously about lying to her son.

Daniel is on my Verizon account because he is infinitely more patient than I and never comes unglued or frustrated when dealing with our account. No hissy fits, no yelling nor any drama. I thought I'd cut him some slack today, Edgar needed to take his line off our account so I went with him, figuring Daniel could use some sleep after acing his exams.

But I immediately came unglued there, had to call Daniel a dozen times or so as he talked me down from the ledge, Edgar standing next to me warily wondering if I'd soon slam out the door, flouncing at how long this was taking, threatening no one that I'd just take my business elsewhere. Plus it's cold outside, 59 degrees at noon, that ain't right. I need warmness and I came home to Carolina's delicious black bean tostados with the works. I can breathe now and I brought our bill down $60a month.

This is Monica's husband, Dewayne, holding their baby Alana.

Needs and Think-I-Wants, But Don't

At six this morning, having had my quiet time peacefully, JoJo woke up on a Saturday morning and is sitting sweetly beside me reading the sequel to Holes. He's a great reader, yet totally disruptive in nature, lazy and hard to handle to the point of aggravating most of the family at regular, consistent intervals. Small Steps has him engrossed at the moment.

I was telling Yolie how I'd hollered at the price of a pinata yesterday at Wal-Mart only to have several other children remind me of the many times I'd bellowed aloud at the ridiculous cost of stuff in stores. Well, duh y'all, this crap is sky high.

I'd gotten out of line when the stupid Spiderman pinata cost $19.88, after my spontaneous gasp of outrage, swapping it out for a Dora one that said $11.88 but rang up as $13.88.

"What?" I'd involuntarily shouted in disbelief.

"Ok, Ok, lady," the cashier knocked it down to $11.88 while I still went on and on about newspaper and flour water paste, no doubt she was wondering why I didn't make my own and keep my country butt at home where it obviously belonged.

I'd have pitched a fit at the school from which I retired over Mayra's laziness, she should have either made one or fried tortillas for the class instead of sending me out in pjs to make a scene at Wal-Mart, but my cell phone rang and I chose to talk to Marcela instead of fussing about Mayra's poor choices to anyone who'd listen.

My mom took me out for lunch at Larry's Giant Subs for a veggie sub on whole wheat with extra jalapenos, then we both hauled in warehouse loads of groceries until the kids came home from school all wanting to go to the basketball game between the two middle schools in our county. Sabrina was cheering and for the first time in 11 years, our school won.

The opposing coach was someone I'd worked with in the very early 1980s, when I only had one child. I had no idea back then when I was footloose and fancy free what the coming years held in store for me. And heck yeah, had I known, this is the path I really would have chosen. Honest.

My evening still wasn't over as the eight middle schoolers all wanted to go to Middle School Madness at the Rec Dept where I also bargained over the entry price. Everything is negotiable to me, never pay sticker price.

I tend not to quote the Bible here, so as not to offend my non believing reader friends, but I don't want to deny my own existence and every thing I stand for and on comes from those anointed pages, well except maybe for my hissy fits at Wal-Mart.

Malachi promises me in 3:10, "Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this," says the LORD Almighty, "and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that you will not have room enough for it."

I have found this to be so true. We have more clothes than we can ever wear, more food that we need...all out needs are met.

We may not have all that we want, but no one does. I say that I have no wants, yet were I to go to a garden store, I'd want everything...but I don't need it. So I don't hang around in stores, nor shop on-line. I'm satisfied as it is, why stir up longings? The stuff I might have wrongly thought I wanted wouldn't have been used, it'd just sit around and annoy me, silently and visually reproach me about materialism, so I move on, using what I have, finding it is always more than enough.

This is where I find Christmas to be such a commercially induced turn-off. I flatly forbid my kids to buy me presents as I don't need anything, nor do I want them to spend money on me that should rightfully be spent on their children.

I want a drama-free family time of food and festivities, but I can't think about that now, I gotta get the elementary kids over to church for their dress rehearsal for tomorrow's musical.

Need More Hours in My Days

OK Mayra, please tell me you need a pinata for your second class of the morning...but not until bedtime. Jeepers. I'll get everyone to school, run to town, get the pinata, run back to your school and tap dance my way across the county before my ten o'clock appointment plus get two tons of groceries to last us through the weekend. I can do this.

Upper 60s, I still need to spend all summer weeding the bermuda grass that permeates everywhere, never really dying back much around here, the root growth continues all winter since our ground never freezes.

Now it is 6:27 - gotta wake up my young'uns...need to post a blog on the other site which wasn't working well - it'll get done.

Exagerating the Trash Level

How stressed do I look? When one has a ten year old openly defy a simple shower request, one explodes on the inside.

One part of me wants to quit, let him stink, count the years until I'm free of his constant defiance and hatefulness, then gloat when he's locked up for continuing these behaviors unabated in the real world.

The other part of me continues forward with his therapy, behavior redirection, hopes and prayers. Pollyanna getting a grip again, digging in the dirt until my anger dissolves.

At school today a teacher gave me a good report about him, he was an hour and a half late to school due to his raging over a shower, yesterday he'd thrown eggs around the house and at Big Jose's truck, he has a starring role in the church musical, and he spews hatred and oppositional behavior when ever possible. Go figure.

A sweet lady'd sent me a wonderful email building me up, this after I'd furiously said aloud, "I oughta put them in a box to El Paso," to Yolie. Y'all are nuts if you think I don't lose it around here, the thoughts in my head involve chucking it all and leaving my own house. Why stress so much if it's all for naught anyway?

Then I get a grip, the kids see the fire blazing from my eyes, and scramble to help me, halfway thinking this might be Mama's final straw, yet I keep on chugging along.

Javy took this picture of me having a hissy late last night after church, worrying about fitting two tons of trash in a one ton bin. We did it though.

I've been to the fifth grade musical this morning, gotta work outside (with utter bliss and pleasure) until the kids get home, fix a barley, corn and rice dinner before we divide and conquer our schedule tonight between the fifth grade musicals 7:00 show and Chuy's middle school band concert; same time, different school. Grandpa and Miriam will take a bunch of kids to the fifth grade one that Grandma, Monica, Alana and I went to today, I'll take the rest of the kids to the concert, leaving the three youngest home with Grandma, Carolina and Big Jose.

Tomorrow is nearly as busy.

First thing this morning involved the removal of Lily's cast and I flew through my errands getting antsier and more restless as the temperatures climbed higher into the 70s again.

Sarah pointed out that I thought this'd be the year fo me to be home alone as I counted 13 kids surrounding em while I dug up another garden bed and planted arugula; the thirteen consisted of Sarah, Ray, Hazel, Yolie, CJ, Cindy Mae, Monica, Alana, Deysi, Alexander, Carolina, Tommy and Estrella with Dewayne, Chuck, Jose, Baby Yolie, Mauri and Blanca soon joining the rest of my kids who live here.

Lily, Tony and JoJo had a long dress rehearsal today for their fifth grade presentations tomorrow and tomorrow night of The Nutcracker plus a dress rehearsal this evening at church for the Sunday Christmas musical along with Jack, Paloma, Scotty, Jonathan and Nando. I sat in on it, making sure they behaved after watching Sabrina cheer her second out of three games this week. Chuy decided to throw in a band concert tomorrow night as well.

I still got most of the laundry done, supper cooked, and dishes cleaned and my usual Wednesday night marathon of getting all the trash up to the collection bins before tomorrow. It is after nine now, everyone went to bed and I just can't wait to get up tomorrow for my newest favorite drink - the soy latte that my baby brother Jimbo got me started on after I guzzle my pot of turbo coffee. How did I get through all these years without an espresso machine? I'm listening to a show on The History Channel about 1968. Jeepers I was 14 then, fixing to start high school, it was a wild decade.

CW took me into the pantry to explain an incident at school today, tears in his eyes, afraid he was being labeled a thief when he's the most honest kid I know. However, by his own admission, he was horsing around, "so you're guilty of disruptive behavior?" I tried to pin him down.

"Yes ma'am," and he hugged me and sniveled, more from hurt feelings than anything else. He said he had taken something from a friend, but not to keep it, just to mess with the kid. He was afraid he'd disappointed me, I'm just glad to have a child who tells me what happened in school.

"Well son, then you made your own self look dishonest, folks don't know your heart. Go make it right tomorrow."

We have one more warm day, I'm gonna sow my sweet peas. In Georgia you gotta plant now or forget any blooms. I haven't even looked at my email nor written my other blog, crunched for time, plus I'm still giggling over an email from a silly mama friend regarding cheap homemade house shoes made out of kotex.