Cuncle

"She's not my girlfriend, sister or cousin, she's my niece," Martin has had to explain countless times as he and Baby Yolie are in the same grade along with Sabrina.

Paloma came busting in the door after school, upset that I'd cleaned out her room, knowing I'd found all the wrappers from food that she's stolen. Food that she knew she could simply have asked permission to eat, but that wouldn't be her point. She wanted to shut down on me when I was trying to figure out which clothes still fit her but I remained deadpan calm and she and Sabrina ended up rearranging the room and deep-cleaning it - after I'd hauled away 8 large garbage bags of trash and washed ten loads of clothes - I literally spent from 9 a.m. in there until 2:30 - breaking only to go eat a sandwich.

26 has been the most children I've ever had living with me at a time under age 18. Our numbers are much lower now and there are days in which I've gotten caught up on laundry. A mundane existence certainly but a day in which I don't need to call the sheriff or a day in which all is relatively congenial is a blessing.

CW is a cuncle to the baby Martin is holding. Being my grandson son, he is both an uncle and a cousin to Alana. Lily being the nousin.

I'm reading of Sharon's cold Florida days and thinking if our weather doesn't break soon I'll explode. So many shrubs and trees are now blooming, the sky has changed its angle, one can feel spring fixing to bust out and this slight tenuous waiting is making me wince at the chilly winds. We do have a warm weekend coming up, literally my heart pounds in excitement.

Today is Leap Day, Ray Ray's fourth, or first, real birthday. He asked me for blueberry bushes for his gift and watermelon seeds so he won't have to ask Bita (me)to pick watermelons. Last year he was so tempted when he'd see almost ripe melons that he'd literally break a sweat trying to obey and not pick too soon. He checked on them every day.

Up on the dirt road, across from my mailbox, Chuck and Yolie are breaking ground for their new house while we pray for their existing home to sell. Ray was so excited over building a house that he'd packed his tools up in anticipation, wanting to help Uncle Chuck. My Bubbas rode bicycles up there all afternoon, watching the bulldozer and too excited to eat our supper of Skillet Hopping John. I don't use chicken broth and I do use brown rice plus I have to multiply this by about ten.

As I'm typing I heard the mouse trap slam shut. We've caught about eight in the last couple of months. That's the downside of country living.

Oink Oink

Ill as a hornet, madder than a wet hen, aggravated and antsy with kids who want to rage and tear up the house, I was stuck with Jonathan who refused to go to school since I'd insanely insisted he take a shower last night. An I'll show Mom moment in which he thinks he won the battle because he reeks. OK, enjoy fourth grade two years in a row and then tell me how you feel. I reported his absence straight to the school social worker.

He slunk around the house, I ignored him and took garbage bags down the hall to Sabrina and Paloma's very large room where six hours later I emerged more irked than when I'd started. How can people live like that? I filled up my truck with trash, torn up clothes and stuff they'd stuffed everywhere as if living in a nest of garbage reassured them. I washed every single item of clothing that Paloma had peed on. Read Julia's blog today as she covered my pissed on bases. (Thank you Travis as both washers whirled the pee away today simultaneously)

I'm chubbing up because Carolina cooks for me all the time. Sarah blogged about her delicious leftovers that I chowed down on yesterday and Carolina just fixed me tostados de frijoles con aguacate, queso, lechuga y salsa caliente and I'm now one plump and happy piglet. I also ate my fourth piece of a cake she'd made yesterday and I haven't even started cooking supper for us. I'm too full to get up and do it.

Difficult Weather

This picture was taken Monday when it was warmer outside, this morning I came downstairs to see that the back deck door had blown open during the 27 degree night - right where I'd brought in the basil plants. On the good side the heater had run all night so I doubt the plants were harmed but Good Gracious I'm going to have a whale of a heat bill.

This time of year is such a tease, the daffodils in full bloom, warm daytime temperatures usually then a super cold night. Some Canadian readers pointed out their temperatures in the comment section and I simply can not fathom how a human being survives.

Jonathan and Paloma generally battle to see who can be the most obstinate child of mine with Joanthan pulling ahead this week big time. I thought about Claudia all night as she'd described her bout with Salinda, while typical in the adoption of older children, is terribly unsettling for the parent who only desired to provide a future for children. This offshoot, this real-life experience is daunting and difficult to weather.

Dear Paula

Why I couldn't talk long to you today....
Martin, Tabby, Ray and Baby Yolie propping up The Fantastic Four
Alana, Cindy Mae, Hazel Bay and Estrella

Slow Mayra

The day that the kids have an early release day (today) will have highs that barely reach 40. I just drove a vanload of cardboards, metal, plastic and glass to the recycling center and nearly froze. This is when I think of all y'all up north and I stand amazed that you can function. Maybe I'm just a weenie.

We're upping the ante on Paloma's therapy to twice a week, hoping she'll get a handle on her anger before the preteen hormones flood her iffy soul. She's so irrational and unreasonable at times that it is frightening to think of her future should she hang on to this level of internal rage.

Mayra was slow and lazy yesterday morning, not ready in time for school. I consequenced her by sending her to bed last night at seven p.m. She got up on time this morning.

Maybe it's the winter blahs dragging us all down. I'm setting my alarm for 6, used to be I'd be up on my own by 5 or so but lately, maybe it's because I'm not under so much stress, my body has craved sleep. I have my quiet time and drink coffee, not getting online for awhile then waking up all my babies for school.

They'll be home in the next hour or so.

The Simple Dollar

Kiyosaki has been villified here but I maintain I've learned some interesting twists on personal finances and I'd recommend his book. I stumbled on this blog and I really like it, I've been poring through it. He's very positive about Dave Ramsey, laying out the principles in his review but what really interested me was his post on 52 Personal Finance Books in a 52 Weeks. Now there's a plan.

Money, Money, Money

In an attempt to calm Tabby down yesterday, Miss Donna pulled up our blog and let Tabby look at the pictures. Knowing I was driving out of town sends Tabby into paroxysms of fear. Will Mama return? This from a child who was left in hundreds of places before she was adopted. Tomorrow is a half-day at school, I told Tabby I'd keep her home and she could have a Mommy Day to reassure her of my continued devotion to her.

I'd had a meltdown recently at out county tax office, owing money that my mortgage company should have paid, I cried when I realized I'd have to pay it or be a delinquent tax evader. In our county that puts your name in the weekly paper. My children do a good enough job of that themselves without my help what with some frequent arrests lately.

I quickly wrote a check knowing there goes our grocery money for the rest of February and only one person saw me shed tears, I was snuffling and trying hard to hold them back, but it kind of felt like the last straw that day.

Of course within days the mortgage company paid two thirds of what they owed and my severe belt-tightening paid off, the tax commissioner called me personally to inform me.

Money drives everything. One's fear of being in debt or one's desire to buy things spurs forward momentum. My desire for freedom, to not have to have a job, to have taken an early retirement knowing it'd cost me 14% a month for the rest of my life has driven me to spend carefully, plan meticulously, and to save whenever and wherever possible.

Being a thousand degrees below materialism has been my saving grace. I'd rather be free than to dress nicely or drive a showy car. That leaves me free to garden and tend to my children, to be home constantly and over-involved in everything.

I'm having light bulb moments while reading this book. I just called Sarah to share what I'd learned this morning. Such a duh and I need to teach it to my kids. It's too simplistic to share here but I highly recommend this book. If you are in debt then Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace University is a proven way to get out of debt quickly but surely. Kiyosaki is on this month's Success magazine cover that I received yesterday in the mail.

The single biggest learning moment came for me in the early 1980s when I took a Larry Burkett course. One might say, "Well Cindy you're poor as a church mouse." I wouldn't be if I didn't have 39 kids, I'd be wealthy. But how would I have used my wealth? To support 39 children. I could not have accomplished my calling without what all I'd already learned in preparation for this life that I chose. A truly circular duh.

A Tour of the Projects

While driving Jose 100 miles back to his psych hospital my phone rang. It was my grown child who is running from the law (probation violation) and staying in an abandoned house. I tried verbal reasoning, called Yolie to reverse google a phone number to a dern tire store on Bankhead Highway, got lost in Southwest Atlanta trying to track the fugitive down, my blood pressure soaring, I called a grown sibling who's as frustrated as I am, finally giving up when Tabby's teacher called me that Tabby, knowing I was not home, had a crying jag.

OK I can choose to waste time scurrying through the projects in Atlanta like all the other rats or I can hoof it back to the interstate and go tend to a kid who wants me around. A no brainer there plus it's a warm day.

Yolie, Sarah, Monica, Carolina and I plus all the babies spent a warm afternoon lolling on the trampoline. My arugula is ready and Sarah just about fainted from the wonderful non-commercial taste of it. "Here run your fingers over the basil plants," I offered her watching her literally swoon.

Tonight will be bitterly cold, shut the windows, bring in the plant trays sunning on the back deck. It'll be 29 degrees I tried to explain to the one who's chosen to live without electricity, common sense, gainful employment or even a halfway respectable address - when the projects would be a step up.

Martin will turn 14 tomorrow while Baby Yolie, my oldest granddaughter, pictured here is almost 13. Calm kids with good attitudes, exactly what I needed after such a stressful morning.

The Gasser

I'm not going to say which son of mine wearing an Old Navy sweatshirt farted in church this morning, loudly and wetly, forcing me to struggle with my own composure. Why do I find it so funny? I don't know. Jonathan had already raged for an hour, maybe I needed JoJo to lighten the mood? He claims it was not him but Jose who let one, he'd been busy making faces at the baby in front of us, causing her to cry when her dad caught on to their shenanigans and took her out of the sanctuary.

Both Paloma and Jonathan have had meltdowns since Jose was home. Both times he's been the one to attempt to reason with them. I muffled a guffaw last night when I heard him remind Paloma that she'd been the second of their five to holler, "I wanna go live there!" when she'd seen the video of our family nearly six years ago.

I've totally enjoyed Jose's weekend at home with us.

Every one of my eight kids had a jam up time at the retreat and they all did well, all made me proud.

A teacher called this afternoon just to tell me how much progress she's seen this year in a troubled child of mine - a child I once feared I might have to homeschool. A good news phone call? Wow.

I even got to get more done outside than I first planned and Sarah wrote a funny blog post.

Jose's Progress

With eight children still at the retreat, CW, Allen, Chuy, Mayra, Sabrina, Martin, Javy and Fabian, the remaining kids are getting antsy - restless and fussy as their world seems off base without the other children to contain the edges.

Yesterday was fine, for awhile the kids at home reveled in their absence, allowing me to spade fork about 50 square feet of entangled crab grass rhizomes, hauling bucket after bucket over to the back fence to dump into the woods where hopefully they'll die and not mysteriously return to life like a bad movie, overtaking my lush garden beds with their fertile roots.

It barely hit 50 degrees but I worked up a sweat - to me, that's living. Lily and Tabby chattering and playing with a lazy barn cat while field mice dance around in the house carefully avoiding the traps we'd set. We have caught five though so far.

Big Joe came by to visit but otherwise it was a quiet uneventful day in which I got a ton of work done. This time of no stress right now is amazing.

What I deem no stress for us might send others packing their own bag to a nuthouse. Paloma had another rage, Jose spent an hour trying to talk her down, to explain to her about the other "crazies" at the psychiatric hospital where he's been receiving treatment. This DBT, Dialectical Behavior Therapy, has had an immediate impact on him. I was in the living room listening to him explain to her what he has learned.

Our world has tilted. Jose is the voice of calm and logic?

Paloma had walked out on Dr. Mandy - shut down on her is a better word. Paloma's level of jealousy regarding everyone else in the world is steep and massive. Plan B - she needs something special to call her own - we're working on it while I still work to maintain the boundaries that keep others safe from her many rages and deep hatefulness.

I let the kids have cereal for supper, I drank a protein shake watching my weight visibly creep up way past what I feel is healthy for me. What's up with that? Middle aged spread? I don't like it, it saps my energy but it, this weight gain, has a mind of its own it appears.

JoJo's been whining for Allen, he's all out of sorts, clinging to Miriam who reminds him of Allen. The other kids will meet us at church this morning and come home to likely sleep all afternoon.

It'll be in the 60s and I should be able to finish another 30 percent of that garden bed, leaving one third for the rest of the week. Each year I optimistically announce to the children, "This is the year I'll defeat the crab grass," but so far I haven't been able to do so...however I do remain hopeful.

Progress?

Jose decided not to go on the weekend retreat with the older kids, choosing to stay here and spend time with Jonathan. He'd walked in our house, first time in almost seven months with long hair slicked back like Elvis Presley and a curl on his cheek. Fabian took one look and got out the clippers, "I don't think so boy," and due to the pecking order that's always been established in out house Jose allowed a backyard haircut, fussing at first, but totally liking his new look. I don't know what's with the adornment here.

When I took the kids over to the church last night Fabian found that his rooming arrangements had changed, he wouldn't be with Javy. A look of emotional shutdown flashed over his face, slamming closed so hard I inaudibly heard it and spent a few moments putting out a fire that nearly flared. I awoke several times last night to pray for him. He has so toned his anger down, worked hard - I literally see sweat beads at times while he visibly struggles with his emotions. Years ago he'd have exploded, nowadays there's an admirable effort on his part, feeling the weight of two younger brothers finally on his conscience. With Edgar not living here Fabian fills the unspoken Latino older son position.

Just as recovering alcoholics are encouraged to take it one day at a time - so do I. Facing years of rages and explosions in my younger children feels insurmountable unless I break it down into a day by day process. Color me cynical with your best Crayolas but Joey's apology, while greatly appreciated, does not signal an end to his own severe issues and inner fight. I'm personally still mentally recovering from the Hell that ensued back then, I cannot imagine how much more so for him.

I read from the John Maxwell Leadership Bible each morning and the Maxwell interpretation sidebar this morning in Luke 14 reads, "Jesus gave Himself wholly to His cause and to His men. Consequently, He could ask them to do the same. When leaders vote with their lives, their followers gain all kinds of security. Jesus' call for commitment both screened the uncommitted and attracted the committed."

I'm pretty sure I am committed yet my mind has entertained thoughts of how nice my life would be without this or that person in it over the years. I've railed against adoption disruption for a long time, yet I've also wondered about the cost of continuing with children who will do nothing but harm the family. There are many times when I see no other choice for families. I believe that saving the family often outweighs the alternative which is to stick it out to no avail.

It's a hard call to make and parents beat themselves up over it for years to come. I disrupted once on Joey, it was my only possible way back then to have him in a psychiatric facility, San Antonio State Mental Hospital, for the next five years. I took him back at age 16 only to have him scream at me that I shouldn't have done so when he was raging down the hall. Should I have done so? I think so. I feel that was the way I was called to act.

I disrupted on another son after three weeks in our home when his sister made allegations that were extremely serious. He spent seven or eight years in a wilderness camp in Texas for sexual perpetrators...now years later I'm aware of even more that has cemented my painful decision.

In AAN or my connections with a RAD group or other state workers I become aware of so many adoption disruptions "rehoming" of severely disturbed children. I feel internally conflicted as I fret about these particular children and the horrific damage they could potentially inflict upon families. I don't think anyone is ever...or could be ever...properly prepared for a decade of Hell. I have no answers, solutions, options, alternatives, choices or suggestions for these children. None, I'm empty and frightened for them.

While Joey, Jose and Fabian, on the surface, seem to have improved so much - and they are way better than they used to be - I'm now so traumatized that I still seek cover figuratively from what's to come seeking solace in my horticultural pursuits. Sarah, see your basil plants below...

Ms Carr participates in this program, brought me the leftovers last night. Jonathan came up behind her, slinging his arms around her waist, hugging and smiling like a normal child, quietly demonstrating how far he has come emotionally. She was his teacher last year, she knows where he lives...she cares and she's proven it to him, she's still in his life even though he's a fourth grader now...NEWS FLASH...he trusts her. This is massive emotional progress for a child with such a stunted ability to express himself.

Well I'll Be A Son of a Gun...

Today an email from Joey:

hey mom how have you been I'm doing okay.... well yeah I've been reading your blog trying to keep up with the family and stuff well i have me a job hopefully ...well i was reading your blog and i realized how much stuff you have been going through lately now that i have been gone for a while... i'm going to be honest i cried yesterday when i was reading it cause i realized how much i put you through... and i'm truly sorry seriously... well yeah just thought i check up on you and see how you are doing tell evreybody i love e'm thank you for everything love you ma.........

Back Home Quickly

Dave Ramsey is a genius. I'd downloaded nine shows on my Ipod and just got to hear five of them. He told of one person with an $80,000 a year income who chose to live on 30 and bank 50K for four years. After that he took his $200,000 savings and interest and made a 100% down payment on his new home - owning it free and clear - still has 80 thousand a year to live on. I am so impressed. I looked like an idiot nodding my head up and down in agreement for the last four hours on the interstate. I agree with every word coming out of that man's mouth.

Ramsey maintains "if you'll live like nobody else does for a few years, you'll get to live like nobody else does." He is absolutly correct.

Paula wrote an excellant post on CPS investigations and adoptions. BTDT several times. The comments that followed her post were just as enlightening.

Bart's statement about the indignities that we therefor suffer after adoption nailed my sentiments exactly. The 'indignities' is a perfect word.

Yesterday I was listening to Brian Flanagan and Zig Ziglar while I cleaned up the house. They have reputations for motivating a sales force and hey, I'm attempting to sell something also...like morals and values, responsibility and accountability, money management and the value of an education, salvation and faith, table manners and hygiene, etc....duh, that's what a parent does.

Jose was right on target in therapy today. We should have a decent weekend.

Stormy, Rainy Friday

It is absolutely storming outside and I was unable to sleep. I have to drive 100 miles each way through Atlanta traffic to go get Jose for his first homestay in seven months.

I'd so much rather drop in on Dee, or call Daniel's girlfriend's mother to finally get to meet her, or check in on a very wayward adult child in Atlanta rather than barrel through, one eye on my watch, the other on the highways, worrying about how Jose will act this weekend, blaring country gospel on my CD player in the truck.

This is the rain we've been praying for, provoking all my kids each time we see a drop to grill me, "Is the drought over now?" Like it won't take another two years to replenish the fact that we're nearly two feet shy of necessary rainfall. I explain it over and over. I can hear my sugar snap snow peas growing outside.

Paloma was rageful and a witch all evening, her moods are cyclical here even at 11, so severe and not related to a monthly cycle yet other than it's apparently oncoming and I'm standing on the tracks.

Amanda used the term 'one dimensional journal' to describe blogging in an email and she's so correct. Even my other kids who don't live at home have to call me for details or try and figure between the lines when I'm careful about what all I say. If we laid it all out here, I'm afraid it'd be too negative for adoption...the reality is harsh yet the highs are so tremendous from having gotten through everything.

Eight kids are going on a retreat this weekend, Discipleship Now, from tonight through Sunday morning. Jose begged to go and our youth pastor is willing for him to try as they will be nearby and I can run get him if he has trouble holding himself together. Javy and Fabian will be there with him. This should be an interesting time

Defiance

We seem to have shook off this virus that's run through our house although Blanca was diagnosed by our pediatrician as having the flu. All my kids made it school except Paloma (not pictured here) who's been bitten bad by the hater bug.

She lost her temper when Sabrina flew to Nando's defense as Paloma was picking on him. Logical move on Sabrina's part, I came in the family room from the kitchen to see who was fussing only to watch Paloma fly into a very predictable rage. She stormed off and dumped rubbing alcohol on Sabrina's bed, broke a flower vase and refused all directions for the rest of the evening. Finally we left her sitting angrily and defiantly in the living room and we all went to bed.

With no audience she too went to bed and refused to get up and go to school today.

Her teenage years are gonna suck.

Mrs. B.R. Cant Shrub Rose

Am I a dork or what? I just called these people to see if they'd dropped me from their mailing list as here it is almost March and I've received nothing from them. I haven't ordered in a few years as I've been unsuccessfully trying to propagate my own. I had one success this year and a bunch of unmitigated failures. Oh well, I'm still young enough to keep trying.

They graciously humored me, "We're mailing them out right now," while probably wondering about the idiot lady who must have had nothing else to do besides whine about a late catalog.

It's the best thing I have to do today while Paloma pukes, Scotty coughs up a lung, JoJo whines and clings more than Edgar ever did, Jonathan darkly frets and Mayra snores up a storm. The air in this room is putrid.

Another One Down For The Count

Now I have five kids home sick from school plus my granddaughter Blanca. I'm popping Vitamin C - Thank YOU Linus Pauling - and echinacea while drinking hot teas and so far eluding the virus. Someone's gotta do the work around here. It sounds like a TB ward what with all this hacking and coughing, a couple of upchuckers thrown in for good measure. Eeuuw I slipped in a slimy mess in the hall. Am I the only one who can clean?

Sick at Home

I see the shirtless boys in the background, any warm day and they shed. Last night it went to 28 degrees but since it was warm during the day, Nando thinks barefeet is a good idea. "It's not cold!" A constant echo barreling around in response.

A flu-like cough/cold whatever is zipping through our county, duh it is a virus not a reflection of shirtless kids when it's 68 degrees and they're running hard. Mayra, JoJo, Jonathan and Scotty are home with me today.

I enjoy my time alone while they are all at school. I get tired of talking and answering questions all day long. I don't mind silence so I think I'm going to head outside and let them all sleep this bug off.

In My Truck

Sarah and I were sitting out in the garden last week and marveling at 34 years passing by so fast and here we were with her children now in my garden...how quickly that'll go by also. My cousin, Aven, sent me this reminder today. Is it now because I'm in my fifties or because Aven and I both lost our younger sisters that now makes us take stock like this? This is too emotionally heavy for me, I'll go haul a wheelbarrow load of wood chips and shake off the maudlin feelings today.

Three kids have now come home from school with flu-like symptoms. My truck keeps running to the elementary school to pick them up when the school nurse calls.

Yesterday afternoon JoJo and Jonathan decided to pick up and recycle the litter on our dirt road, tossing beer cans into the back of my truck. "Bag them up y'all, I don't want people to see Bud Lite in my truck."

"I thought you didn't care what people think?" challenged Fabian, oppositionally of course.

"Boy, I care if they think I drink. What kind of Christian witness would that present?"

He accompanied me to the trash cans up by the mailbox, helping me load all the trash, telling me to jump in the barrels and stomp 'em down.

"Mama you're as fat as you've ever been in your life, you can do it."

"I ain't fat, I'm happy," I retorted having gained some pounds over the past year, not as tense and stressed as I've been in the previous years...or is it because Carolina and Sarah keep cooking treats for me?

500,000

Strategizing with Jesse over the cell phone yesterday while stirring a mongo pot of garlic black beans I stopped him, "Hang on, a teacher's trying to call me."

Flashing through my brain at the exact nanosecond was a huge ooops. Realizing if Miss Judy was calling at 5:15 then I'd obviously lost track of time and forgotten to pick up Allen at 5 from tutoring. Fortunately she told me Miss Kimberly was bringing him home at the moment. Jeepers how blonde can I get?

Jesse was as stressed as I am over a sibling of his who can't listen to reason. We really need prayers over this situation for safety and for the right doors to open.

By the time I'd gotten dinner on the table our electricity was surging, lights dimming inexplicably and then coming back on, a computer popped loudly washing Chuy with the smell of plastic burning, we lost the internet and again I attributed it to my own short circuiting and electromagnetic field, but in reality a transformer had cwapped up and now I need to make a claim to our EMC. Like I needed yet another thing to do?

Cold enough this morning for our heat pumps to kick in, first time in a week, it's been warm enough to drag my seed trays of lavender and four o'clocks outdoors for the day. I'm getting so excited just at the thought of spring. The first hyacinth bloomed yesterday, sending Yolie into a swoon as memories of the past 17 springs of living within our family rushed over her - the scent of her childhood.

A big thanks to all y'all for the half million page views that I reached this morning. Knowing that I'm traveling the same darkened road with so many others, holding hands while we feel along the walls, wondering how to raise such traumatized children...I've so needed the support group I've found in all y'all, the prayers even more so. A huge thanks to Claudia for getting me started. I didn't even know what a blog was until I read hers.

Right now neither spellcheck nor links are working - again my nerve cells backfiring?

ArtWork by Lily

The Bright Side

The flu bug has hit our county heavily. We're not down and out with it but Paloma and Scotty are running fevers and didn't make it to school today. Coughing and headaches are running through our family, as usual I must be too thick-skinned to catch anything, maybe it's the vitamins or the fact that Mama can't get sick. Who'd cook? Maybe even the germs and viruses find me too irritating?

The down side to our warm weather would be the tornadoes that rocketed through the South last night, not affecting us though, we got a wonderful gully washer rainstorm.

No drama lately and I'm very, very thankful. Tony feels it's his civic duty to elevate my blood pressure each morning, deliberately provoking me to correct his behavior which then justifies him bursting into tears. He walked outside to the van before school in his sock feet, explaining that I'd rushed him too much to have time to put on his shoes which was pure T bull spit.

I'm not the one who has to put damp feet into shoes, instead I get to wear dry socks like any other normal dork. Uh duh son, your point is?

A lady came to Sunday School that I'd not seen since I left that middle school position for a high school one in 1987. She caught me up on all my colleagues from back then, from 1981-1987, we'd worked together in a school with no air conditioning - the media center was upstairs and I was the only one never affected by Georgia's sweltering heat as I didn't have AC at home either back then. People weren't such sissies as they seem to be now, needing climate controlled everything. We didn't know what we didn't have.

Sarah and I then had an old farmhouse that we loved, 10 foot ceilings and a functional wood stove provided all the heat we needed, a large garden out back and a peaceful lifestyle that we both remember very fondly.

Oh well, back to my reality. I have way more garden space now than then - let's look on the bright side. Peace might be overrated? A wild thought to justify my existence today?

Not Real

Another Anya picture capturing Daniel's exasperation at a Bubba-related computer problem.

Miriam tattled, "Mom some psycho was googling the phrase 'vodoo Lily'. What're they gonna do, put a spell on her?"

"Child, that was me looking up the Voodoo Lily seeds that Sharon sent me."

Jeepers.

However as I ran outside after church to weed, I was thinking how hard can it be for my family to settle down eventually? No new children in three years here, no new adjustments or siesmic shifts in sibling relationships such as when we add a 7, 9, 11and 12 year old as we've often done, moving around bedrooms and furniture.

We're stagnant if anything, certainly compared to previous years and it suits me. New family members come in the form of grandchildren and are not my primary responsibility. I get the joy and blessings without the work.

Other than Paloma's screaming fit on the trampoline to all the other children who were ignoring her, "Cindy isn't MY MOM!" over and over again until she comprehended her audience was supremely disinterested in her solitary and senseless rebellion.

Coming inside after giving herself a headache from her rampaging volume she murmured, "Mom, my head hurts."

"Mom? Who're you calling Mom? I sarcastically snapped.

"You."

I stared blankly.

"OK, I'm sorry," twisting the word into a hiss.

"Here's your tylenol," forgiving as usual. What if the tables were turned. What if I couldn't even maintain my immature level of decent behavior? What if I ever retorted, "Paloma's not MY REAL KID!"

Unimaginable. She is my real kid, not my fake kid. I see Paula faced this today as well and we'll all face it again over and over and over.

Another beautiful day of weeding bermuda grass until my hands were cut to pieces. Tangled in the roots of my roses, I got it looking perfectly and then mulched to my supreme satisfaction with fresh, yet aging wood chips. A big rain storm bearing down on us, and a smile on my face.

I love to weed my gardens. You can't tell by looking as one or more always need weeding but that's because I've over extended myself, adding new beds every year.

It almost hit 70 degrees; barefeet, shirtless kids playing soccer in the meadow, not a bit of fighting or squabbling anywhere with anyone over anything all day.

I went out a little after ten this morning and never came in for six solid hours, Tony bringing me a smoothie, Sabrina baked Brownies, Mayra brought me kettles of boiling water to kill the stupid fire ants and Javy brought me wood chips.

I could hear Sarah bellowing with joy over her day, down the driveway, across the dirt road and through the woods; probably way down her dirt driveway at her mailbox. Her brownies on this new post are to die for.

Monica and Dewayne just took Martin and CW to the movies and Fabian went with Miriam. Edgar came by this morning making me grateful for the tight sibling bonds. Often when I can't get through at all to some hardheaded child of mine, an older sib can make great headway. JoJo literally can't breathe if he doesn't see Edgar enough, that man means the world to him.

By noon Fabian had apologized and later helped me turn over a Bermuda grass infested garden bed. Permaculture not at it's best.

Monica decided she'd had enough of Paloma's hatefulness. Jealous of everyone over everything, Paloma lashes out constantly. She's not necessarily jealous that someone has something, but rather she goes ballastic over who a person is. Lily was never in foster care, Blanca has an intact family, Yolie is "perfect". Sarah is my birth child, all are reasons in her angry, trigger-happy, muddled mind to say that they hit her. Four girls who never use physical force, who never lash out. No one ever hits Paloma ever, they avoid her like a plague, knowing she so constantly erupts into violence.

She's pictured above, hands on her hips, disgruntled that everyone is acting happy and having fun. In her mind she must wonder, "How do they do it?" In my mind I constantly turn over thoughts and ideas about how to teach her to let go of her anger, to enjoy herself, to lose her perceived 'victim status' where nothing is her fault but rather she thinks it is everyone else's fault that she is miserable.
Honey, 2 and 2 doesn't equal 8.

Monica talked to Paloma for several hours, Monica was in tears at one point, frustrated and buffaloed at such incredibe illogic, they went on a long walk, Paloma came back meaner than ever. She's a very pretty girl with such a black, putrid streak of hate dominating her personality.

I'd read in our weekly county police report about an 11 year old child who was unruly, hitting a five year old, and threatening to kill family members so DFACS and DJJ got involved. Wow, we live like that often. Paloma, Jonathan and Jose are unreasonable, disruptive, oppositional and unruly 90% of the time here. Jose living in a psych ward at the moment, coming home for his first visit next weekend. He's excited, I'm filled with trepidation. He called me this morning, gushing at the thought of a trip home, his first time since August.

This managing of everyone's emotions is grueling and I know as adults they'll be on their own without compassionate housemates who tiptoe past ragers, or a Mama who understands. The police can't factor in psychiatric diagonses or emotionally disturbed labels. The disruptive behaviors that result from their usually unpushed buttons will be handled with handcuffs and jail cells.

These natural consequences are the ones I'm attempting to teach them with the help of Dr. Mandy.

Monica's dismay reflects how different the children are now than even a decade or so ago when my grown children were younger. Although we had very tough times, there was never the level of hatred and bizarre behavior that we see all too often now.

We didn't have a bad day though yesterday. I was relieved to have Monica helping with Paloma, Sarah and her kids were here, I had garden time, I've not left the property since Wednesday night church (today is Saturday) and everyone is being pretty good, enjoying the time at home for our four day weekend.

Born To Do This

Today will be in the mid 60s so I can get myself outside and work through some personal frustrations.

Big Jose suprised his wife, Carolina, with a ring yesterday along with roses and chocolates. He wrote and sang her a song as well, bringing me also flowers and chocolates which had the Bubbas crawling all over me like it was fish bait or something. A fragrance such as chocolate is as alluring as flypaper to my young sons.

Fabian snapped last night, constantly oppositional and disruptive until I whirled on him, fed up, and rudely asked him to shut up. He'd interrupted adults for the one hundredth time as I was explaining a recent phone call to Carolina. He went to his room at suppertime to sleep and I've not seen him since. Yes, of course I've checked on him and am hoping for an apology and an emotional turnaround this morning.

So behind on laundry, struggling in a couple of other areas with my children, yet keeping and working through some motivational thoughts and ideas in my brain, wrangling and imaginary horse roping it seems, as the positive words twist themselves free, I'm simply believing that the good will always prevail.

My Sunday School teacher, Martha, had recently told me, "You were born to do this," in reference to a book she'd read or a speaker she'd heard, I've forgotten exactly, but it was those specific words I needed to hear and have echoing in my cavernous head

Color TV and Bad News

Looks like she's hanging from the tree but Anya caught Sabrina in a flip.

My pretty friend Beth had sent me a 'look up the year you were born site' which I promptly did while thinking how I had just hugged her daddy the other day, and wondering when I'd get to see her again. I can ponder all that while reading at the site that I was 3 months old when the World Series was televised in color for the first time in 1954.

"Big whoop," Sarah chimed in, "We never had color TV until I was grown, we didn't even have any TV most of the time." 1994 - some 40 years later? So modern and cutting edge is life down a dirt road.

But it paid off, she's quite the reader instead. I just sent her the obit of one of her favorite authors when she was a preteen. Phyllis Whitney was writing her autobiography at age 102, her life cut short at 104 before she got to finish it. That ain't fair.

The day I'd left the jail after my apologetic meeting with the sheriff, I had checked my cell phone that I'd left out in my truck getting a heart-stopping message from UGA about an emergency, only to realize it was thankfully just a test of their system. I sat there with my heart pounding until I calmed down. Both Daniel and Cristy are enrolled there. Just now hearing about this college campus is saddening for me.

Two crappy phone calls this afternoon. One convoluted story from Joey about getting charged with committing a violent crime in prison and having to face the same judge for the fourth time in about a year, claiming they might lock him up for a long time.

"What about that baby?" I stupidly asked a manboy with the emotional maturity of a toddler.

"Guess her parents will have to take care of it." Like who cares, mom? Don't bother me with the accountability lecture - implied but left unsaid.

I might have been standing in the pantry but I hit the roof. "Are you kidding me?" I hollered so loud the cans shook on the shelves. Why are you doing the same thing to your kid that was done to you? Act right, get a job, pay the dern bills," I screamed at him, royally pissed off at this level of irresponsibility.

I don't even want to talk about the second call although I appreciate this woman taking the time to share some information with me that she thought I should know. She was right but we both feel so helpless, she in Atlanta and me way out here, knowing I have a grown kid happy to live on the streets of Atlanta, sleeping in an abandoned building and involved in some horrible choices, refusing to return to a program thus instigating an arrest warrant being issued for breaking probation. This after a decade of counseling, therapy and then psychiatric hospitalization for nearly five years.

I called an older birth brother, we're on the same page regarding this dilemma and what this child of mine needs to do to right the situation.

Dadgum Cold Morning

I've had several questions emailed to me about Anya. Anya is a photography student in college who took a ton of pictures of us a couple of days for a project. I don't know what kind of camera she used, only that it is a really good one. Anya went to high school with several of my kids and her mom is a friend of mine.

Here I was fixing to sign Tony's school folder, maybe reaching for a pen but who knows? Check out the sea salt in front of me, I might have been stuffing my face. Tony's holding a video cover and we've lost the DVD that we need to return to Blockbuster a month ago. No make-up, hair clipped back and raggely clothes...raggely is a Big Joe word.

Walking into church last night, right in front of the Ladies's Bible Study, Chuy and Martin got into a shoving match that immediately escalated into a fistfight that I had to separate. I was embarrassed that they can't even walk into church without squabbling.

At the nursing home, that JoJo insisted on calling a homeless shelter and wondering where everyone's family was, "Why aren't they taking care of their grandmas?" he kept asking me loudly. He was shockingly sensitive, passing out the stuff they'd brought, talking to very infirm folks in wheelchairs after the kids had sung a couple of songs to them.

He ended up going room to room with a nurse while I stood open-mouthed in surprise. JoJo being sweet to strangers? Tony did a great job also while Jack withdrew, clinging to me, unsure, used to way more vibrant elderly people in his life. This was a service project for Children's Church and overall my kids impressed me.

A four day weekend, 25 degrees when we woke up, a bunch of barefeet children protesting the temperature like somehow I must have slipped in my responsibility to keep Georgia warmer. Awakening yesterday morning to a balmy 52 degrees, the day went downhill to 32 by suppertime. I'd seen a kid at Tabby's school arrive that morning in shorts. Don't they watch the five day forecast? If that'd been my kid, someone would have called DFACS on us - large families are always watched with suspicion and ignorance.

I told Tina I was gonna blog that I knew exactly where her cart was at all times yesterday in Wal-Mart as the four kids with her were exhuberant, noisily singing and happy. Lord knows they couldn't have been cuter. Her baby twins, three years old now, so adorable that they make me wanna adopt again. Not really, I'm worn out, I'll just admire her kids.

"You're not wearing pjs," she pointed out.

"Yes I am." I flipped the underside of my sweatshirt to reveal my thermal underwear. Hey, this is Wal-Mart, we can act like trailer trash if we want to.

PJs can be defined as thermal underwear, sweat pants, raggedy shirts, not just my Tweety Bird flannels or the fake silk leggings.

Tony is raging in his room right now because I verbally redirected his behavior. To him that translates into his right to scream, yell, stomp and bellow. To me his response translates into a loss of computer privileges this morning.

I'm still wearing what I had on yesterday at Walmart, cooked and cleaned in, that I then wore to church, slept in, got up this morning, and am waiting for Miss Kim from DJJ to come over. She surely doesn't expect a slob like me to dress up.

Another good thing about being in one's fifties, make-up and dressing up doesn't help much so why even bother? Finally a great excuse to be a little piglet. I'm loving it.

Making It Through Yet Another Winter

I'm constantly asked what we eat. Last night I cooked a pot of lentils with onions, jalapenos, and garlic, a ton of cornbread, and baked apples with cinnamon. It was still warm after supper so the kids played soccer outside until past dark, coming in hungry again after I'd gotten the kitchen cleaned up. Everyone wanted a bowl of cereal before bed.

After school today with their Valentine parties they'll come in hyped up and not wanting supper so I'll wait them out and serve it later...no I can't do that, tonight is church and the Children's Church is going to go sing at the old folks home. I told Miss Lisa I'd help drive everyone.

Tomorrow and Friday will be winter break - no school so I have to make sure I get my errands done today.

My digital camera is unfixable making me eligible for a new camera from Best Buy. Cool, but I know there's a catch, there has to be, I'm probably going to take Sarah with me to keep me calm as I deal with retail merchants, not my favorite thing to do. The dyes in the stores, the chemicals in the plastic wraps, the garish lighting and the rampant air of materialism always set me off, making me monsterously irritable.

However heavy rains last night brought a smile to my face, woke me up in the middle of the night. I have so many perennials that need this right now, even the daylilies are starting to poke up out of the ground, making my spirit soar.

Dapne blooming, super fragrant and the Ice Follies Daffodils also putting on a show. It's going to be cold every night this week, but that won't bother these plants.

Shred It In Your Head

A high of nearly 70 today but only 45 degrees predicted for tomorrow. I swear the barometric pressure affects me. Rain coming in always boosts my mood as if the negative ions are energized or some other specific physics lesson that eludes me. I got absolutely ecstatic shoveling dirt and wood chips into my compost pit knowing that tonight while I slept the anaerobic bacteria would do its work, changing all our scraps and weeds into brown gold. This is my 16th season in this particular garden and our bright red Georgia clay is a deep brown loam. It makes me giddy with happiness.

Sweet Daniel came by to fix Grandpa's computer so I made him a protein drink. Smartest computer genius I ever met spilt his drink down both his legs, managing to spash Grandpa's legs as well. Even I'm impressed with that kind of finesse.

Tony just told me to forget about something stupid he'd done, "Just shred it in your head," he suggested. I like that. That and my new mantra, "My kids are doing better than their birth parents."

I explained that theory to Daniel who cracked, "All your kids put together haven't been in jail as many times as some of our birth parents."

"No Daniel, I'm talking about education, spiritual maturity and fiscal success."

My two cell phone overusers without permission actually thought I'd forget about that and allow them to go to a middle school dance today after school. Nice try girls, did you think I'd recently had a concussion or something? We're talking $200 worth of nonsense.

I did let Chuy go as he was the only son who wanted to do so, prompting CW to spend 30 minutes deep in thought before blurting out, "I know he's up to something."

"Like what?" I asked suspiciously, ready to bust into the dance in my ratty pjs and retrieve the little rascal, but knowing Miss Judy, Miss Ellen, Miss Kimberly or some friend of mine there would put the brakes on any misbehavior. It ain't like he could get away with anything around here and he knows it.

"He likes some dumb girl."

Jeepers, he's a sixth grader. What is he thinking?

My mom, 78 in May, pictured here with Tabby and Alana, has gotten more planted than I have, trying both Bibb and Romaines lettuces, while I stick to a half dozen types of leaf lettuce. You know, the find something you like and stick with it school of thought. I've included Black Seeded Simpson as a spring time ritual since I was 18 years old. I've easily eaten my weight in leaf lettuce each spring.

Fabian and Nando

When I used the term 'unflattering' to describe some pictures I should have said 'unposed' as Anya snapped hundreds of us, blending in to the walls, catching my children offguard and unprepared...getting some beautiful shots as a result. Here Fabian had picked up Nando after supper.

I've already taken Fabian for his DJJ appointment now I'm going to zoom outta here for my errands. Fabian served his school suspension and did his community service hours. I hope today goes well for him.

On my other blog yesterday someone commented something that hit me hard in a profound way, lightened my spirit and consoled me greatly.

Another Thirteen Year Old

A midwest large family featured here which reminds me...Y'all's weather deserves an exclamation mark. Jeepers! I honestly don't know how your bones don't just crack in spite. Mine would shatter in protest. I'd rather sweat like the pig I am.

After stops this morning at Pre-K, the elementary and middle schools, I hightailed it to the way other end of our county for Fabian to finish off his community service at the Animal Shelter after first making sure they didn't have the kind of dog he wanted. Like I need another mouth to feed?

He was sullen on the way over, quiet and afraid of a new situation, but he warmed up once there.

I'm needing to check Sabrina out of school at lunch time as she's turning the big 13 today. Sarah suggested that I buy her some eye makeup remover so she can wipe away the evidence. Ha Ha, I'd rather get her a huge mirror so she can see how pretty she is without makeup.

Cold mornings and warm afternoons allowing me to plant certain things and spread more wood chips everywhere after I get my morning chores done like sort the laundry that Sabrina and Mayra certainly aren't doing in this photo, rather they're slinging it to kingom come as they hunt for pink stuff.

The kids only have three days of school this week so I need to haul in several tons of groceries to eat.


Photo Credit Anya Rice

Totally Unflattering Pictures of Us Getting Supper Together As Photographed By Anya For Her College Project in Photojournalism

I TOLD y'all I'm a pig, wearing raggedy clothes around the house, my hair pinned up... but getting the job done. This was one evening as I was making 4-10 burritos each for twenty something children. Fabian hanging on me in one photo, Javy in the other, obviously El Guapito wasn't home.

One Night Last Month

Anya just gave me a CD with 140 pictures on it. She tried to take candid shots, the house is messy all around the kids and I'm, as usual, wearing pjs which is a long underwear shirt and sweat pants. Here I am on the right holding Jack.

As An Option (Last Ditch)

There's likely no better feeling for me than to get up in the morning and feel muscle soreness. It can only mean one thing - I must have had too much fun turning over garden soil. While doing so yesterday I thought of several comments from y'all about homeschooling and I do see it as a great option.

I'll be brutally honest and selfish though - I'm not sure I want to homeschool anyone. Those few hours now that everyone is gone allows me to get the groceries, enjoy the quiet, run all the errands and attend all the meetings that come along with children in residential care or confinement.

Yes I know I could somehow work it all out and I'd do it if I found it absolutely necessary. I've done it before and I'd do it again but it just isn't my first choice. Again we do have a superb school system yet that alone can make my struggling children stick out all the more so. Jack's second grade class only has 15 kids and a teacher with a part-time parapro, Scotty has Ms. Carr and the rest of the children also have splendid teachers, much better than I would be, what with me feeling a bit burned out nowadays.

Our middle and high schools are wonderful also but yes the peer pressure there might make me reconsider when I also factor in my children's issues and inabilities to perform on grade level.

Today Anya is coming back over, this time to take more photos but also with a CD of photos from a month ago that I'll use here.

Fabian's DJJ counselor wants to bump it up to twice a week and I totally agree. He's slipping again, praying we can nip it in the bud.

Edgar and his girlfriend, Laura, hung out with us last night, fifth season of Scrubs in his hand, silly and ridiculous, but who doesn't need a belly laugh? I've never watched House or ER because I'm squeamish and who needs realistic, drama shows when one lives here?

Would I do this?

My camera's still being repaired but my best friend Emily took this, it's her grandson-son...something many mamas find themselves raising...like me.

Got 100 square feet of taters planted, three kinds of lettuce, and a long row of sugar snap snow peas and weeded a bed that's ready for strawberries to be planted. I'm gonna rip out the old beds as they're good and spent, time for a change and I hauled and dumped enough woodchips to rid myself of my frustration over my lawbreakers.

I'm not irked anymore, they gotta deal with their own consequences and take their lumps. Learn the hard way folks, I'm not guilty of not warning y'all knuckleheaded children of mine. Jeepers.

Edgar took Fabian today to give me some breathing room, Mayra went to Atlanta with Carolina and family, and Lily's over at her friend's house, leaving me with some fairly quiet kids.

Jack and CW are glued to Solar Storm on the Discovery Channel, Jonathan and Paloma are out on the rope swing while Little Miss Smarty Pants who'll turn 13 in 48 hours is prancing around on the trampoline. But she sure ain't wearing mascara.

A warm day so a bunch of Bubbas went down to the big creek to play, I wouldn't let Tabby go and she threw a world class fit in my garden, slinging dirt, snot, tears and spit resulting in a muddy mess. I was thinking of Linda Up North's post about ignoring her rager and I just kept on turning soil with my spading fork and singing some dumb advertisement that was dancing around in my head about Alka-Selter - the "pop, pop, fizz, fizz, oh what a relief it is."

Dee had asked me to post more about what we eat and I'll try to do so. Tonight I cooked eight pounds of whole wheat curly noodles and slopped 24 cans of tuna fish in it with mayonnaise and Grey Poupon mustard, mixed it all up. They love it. I was full from a yogurt, wheat bran, protein powder and frozen raspberries smoothie - I drank two quarts of it - no wonder I'm stuffed.


Sarah blogged today.

Yet another jailbird son of mine, Joey, just called to tell me he'd gotten another month of time for bad behavior. Who didn't see that coming? I probably haven't mentioned this as I'm not thrilled but he's making me a grandma again in May. No comment. OK, I gotta smart off - what was that girl thinking? An unemployed, lawbreaking, raging, full of mental health diagnoses guy was appealing to her?

A sweet reader just emailed me that she felt like this blog, and other realistic ones were her lifeline. She stated, "you are making a difference, especially when you tell the messy truth. In some ways I wish I had found your blogs before we took the plunge, but in some ways I am glad I only found them in my desperate search for answers after the fact."

If I'd have known all this before I adopted...would I have adopted these darlings?

Yeah I would. I may not be very happy with some of my young'uns at times, but I do still feel called to do this, to be where I am with the kids I'm with.

Morning Aftermath

I struggle up from my sleep induced vacation - but my mind flapped awake at four and I laid there thinking of all the ins and outs for my children.

Clearly we're not impressing our community with our efforts. While Sarah, Yolie, Gina, Deysi and Marcela have finished college, Saray, Daniel and Cristy are almost finished, Joe and Jesse have college credits, Gito will certainly be college material as will quite a few of my other jailbirds to be. Several have bought homes, married and had children - I still see and feel hope, yet it is mingled with despair at some of my other children who's severe diagnoses will ever preclude any normal functioning in society.

Will I have 40 and 50 year old dependants here still with me?

Last night was the first night I didn't see Edgar, when I finally reached him, he was clearly annoyed with Vanessa, Miriam laid low over the entire situation while Fabian was worried sick. He got a couple of hours community service in and he'll do the rest on Monday, hopefully and proudly turming in his quickly completed time sheets Tuesday morning to DJJ.

He spent the morning with our original adoption caseworker, cleaning her very large office suites for an upcoming training session. I rarely get to go over there and visit her anymore, looking at Pat and Vicki's kid's pictures on the walls, wryly suggesting that we place my children's mugshots on the other wall depicting the reality of adoption of older children.

Today I'm planning to plant a sack of seed potatoes and my peas, chard and spinach. Sharon sent me some wonderful and exotic seeds that I need to figure out when and where to plant, Cindy Adams sent an offer that I pondered all day long and Paula's beautiful book beckons me - hopefully a great day ahead. My 77 year old mother already got her planting done yesterday while I flitted around from place to place.

This Sucks

OK, lemme just go to the jail my ownself and see what's going on. One of the investigators went to hug me, a longtime friend, but I was tearing up as I learned I had THREE kids in jail.

"If you're nice to me, I'll cry," I warned, following the sheriff down the hall where he was fairly certain I was gonna explode all over him.

Heck, I'm not mad at him, I'm furious with my children. "What would you do?" I asked him, "What do most parents do?"

"They come screaming in here with their lawyers," he responded.

"Well not me, my hard-headed kids gotta learn."

"Then leave 'em here, we'll take good care of them."

I apologized profusely, "You know I raised them better than this, remember I'm Daniel's mom too," as our sons had played on the high school baseball team together.

An aside: I ran into a retired nurse today who asked me about Daniel, telling me he was always her favorite as she'd had to chase him around the health department to give him a shot when he was six years old...dadgum if he wasn't the cutest thing ever.

So I walked away and left Vanessa in jail.

However the judge, who'd handled her adoption, let her out on an Own Recognizance bond, probably figuring he was helping me out, reducing a felony charge to a misdemeanor.

She'd been in a fist fight at the Mexican trailer park.

Her victim goes to school with my other kids so I went by the school to give the prinipal a heads up, a little fearful that my other kids might face retaliation. I caught Sabrina there wearing mascara. "Girl you are 12 years old," I unnecessarily bellowed at her, "I hope you enjoy restrictions."

Vanessa called Big Joe to come get her and give her a ride. I'd already talked to him that morning, brought him up to speed and he gave her a talking to, "Mom knows, she's already been down here this morning."

Like I wouldn't know in this county?

"You need to straighten up, go back home, get your life together, this is stupid" he insisted to her.

My other kid got his probation revoked for his second DUI and I don't want to talk about the other. Visiting hour is gonna be blistering from me, that's for certain.

Vanessa had the nerve to complain that the deputies were 'clowning on' about our family. Duh girl, you gave them the ammo. They'd been called three times on her lately, fed up they took her in last night.

Jail

Woken up again, "Mom I have to tell you something," Miriam shaking me awake.

She told me who'd just been arrested.

All I could think of was thank God no one had been in an accident.

I'm not sure what to do right now.

Please pray for wisdom for me today.

Lives Worth Living

If any of y'all ever have time, go back and read some of the comments on back posts. I chew and digest all that you tell me, and please never be apologetic for just having one or two children. One child can be as challenging as a thousand.

Wendy in Canada sent me to the Beyond Consequnces website and this and I've been reading through there and googling - real good stuff.

My caseworker called to tell me about Dialectical Behavior Therapy and everything she'd learned. She explained it to me and it made sense, so much so that I wished my son was in the same residential program she'd been trained at...but in my world coincidences happen with regularity.

Jose's therapist called for a phone session and told me they'd recently started DBT there. Astonished I told her I'd just that morning learned about it. I researched it online, read a good bit aloud to Fabian and JoJo, it even made sense to them. These are not insightful boys.

A few minutes after that Dr Mandy arrived and was also aware of this approach and explained more to me and how we could use my children's self-esteen issues along with the main thought: "The most important of the overall goals in DBT is helping clients create “lives worth living.” I totally buy this. I wanna holler DUH.

Miss Kim from DJJ had learned from my blog that Fabian had been suspended, she was at our house first thing reading him the riot act. He likes her a lot and was ashamed, shutting down somewhat. His woman conflicts revolve around me - the whole mama thing. Kim's pretty and not-the-mama and he has a crush on her.

All day I had folks here or was on the phone doing business - never got my face washed, but Fabian was delightful and helpful. Merilee sent me exactly what I needed to get me out of the dumps. Watch it all the way through and wait for the backward part to blow you away.

My Envy

JoJo kicked off one of his shoes so hard down the hall that it clobbered Scotty in the head who immediately and dramatically slid to the floor caterwauling.

"I didn't mean to do that," JoJo protested when his behavior was corrected by me, this after he'd already had a crying meltdown in school and had to leave. He stormed off and started kicking a hole in Miriam's bedroom wall. Mayra and Fabian both tried to reason with him, often birth siblings can soothe a wild beast episode, but he only escalated.

I went in to hold him tight to prevent further damage while he screamed, "Let me GO," over and over at the top of his lungs but didn't try to wriggle free, it would have been easy for him to do as he's almost my size.

He did try to kick out a window and I simply burst into tears, a rarity for me. I let go of him and sat there on their messy floor and sobbed.

I'd already had a very trying and bleak day, a very bleak day, and all I could think of us why am I doing this? Why am I trying so hard for children who seem bound and determined to break laws and go to jail? Why is my life so off kilter? I don't know any other 53 year olds who have to restrain raging children (except for some of y'all), I'd once thought by the time I was this old I'd have some peace somewhere.

Fabian and Mayra cried too, JoJo was already sobbing. Allen somehow held it together. He's usually highly emotional over anything involving JoJo. He came and sat beside me, hugging me while I cried so hard my face swole up like a wierd balloon. All I could find to wipe my drippy nose was Fabian's stinking dirty T shirt. How have I sunk this low?

Edgar had already called me wanting me to watch that video he had, I was very tempted to call him and ask him to come help me with JoJo, but Fabian was trying pretty dern hard already.

The rest of the children had quietly gone to bed, the little ones didn't see me cry which is a priority for me. I mean heck, we'd just come from Wednesday night church, Paloma was winding up to be the B word but JoJo's drama overshadowed her attempts to find a sympathetic audience. She'd refused to get out of the van so the entire family ignored her and went on in the house to bed.

Like we're gonna beg her to come in and aggravate everyone? She came in, on her own, within five minutes and slunk off to bed.

Eventually Allen calmed JoJo down and they all went to sleep.

I sat on the sofa with the remote watching a taped Intervention program where I received some comfort that at least we're not dealing with that. Just as I watch this lady, when I can, in order to comfort myself. They make my own house look really good in comparison. Ain't these some lame self-soothing behaviors on my part?

I'm working through some other stuiff with another kid that is gut-wrenchingly heart breaking and there seems to be no remedy; no hay mas remedio echoing through my throbbing skull.

Chuy, smartest one in the house, refused to wear a fleece this morning in 34 degree weather, going out in shirtsleeves protesting as usual, "But I'm not cold!"

"Someone's gonna call DFACS on us stupid," his older brother shouted. We live in fear. Like the Nazis will harrass us once again when, if anything, we live above and beyond anyone else's standards. I over-parent. I have to work twice as hard as anyone to be considered half as good. I'm considered to be an idiot for even trying with these kids...my higher levels of education all a waste apparently. My resentment kinda high about it.

"You'll lose computer privileges if you don't do as you're told," I directed him as he angrily pulled a fleece over his head, muttering about my stupid rules.

Jeepers. Right now I greatly envy ladies who lunch, ladies my age living in non-distressed houses with no holes punched in the walls, and anyone who can digest their food. You know like normal people.

Oh Boy

A sad, yucky morning and the afternoon is not looking much better. Fabian has just been suspended from school. Oh boy, I get three days home with a very sullen boy.

Several moms have reminded me lately that this isn't just adopted children stuff, birth families deal with it also. Another mom, a P.O. who'd watched my children get baptized Sunday was very moved by the morning and thinking how these same children would be in so very different straits had they never been adopted.

Yeah, I agree with that yet I get so dadgum frustrated that they can't/won't get it together now with all the help they've been given.

"...the joke's on the boys as the penalty for "intentional farting" is now a detention.

'Strange, but true, thanks to a bunch of 8th grade boys, intentional farting has been banned from CRMS," the newsletter said. "It started out as a funny joke and eventually turned into a game. This is the first rule at CRMS that prevents the use of natural bodily functions. The penalty for intentional farting is a detention, so keep it to yourself"

Jeepers, what's this world coming to? And what if a girl lets one? Detention? Applause? A Promotion?

At times one would think it is a means of staccato communication here within our home and yet another reason I greatly prefer keeping the windows open versus running the AC.

Is my own little world so free of drama at the moment that I can allow myself a few guffaws?

Last night Edgar called and wanted to know if I wanted to watch the fifth season of Scrubs with him and his girlfriend on video. "What season is it now?" I'd asked him.

"Heck, I dunno," he replied, as if that dumb fact mattered to anyone.

"Nah, I can't sit still that long."

Today, Super Tuesday, the schools are closed as it is a teacher's workday and several schools are precincts.

Want to know who I'm voting for? Of course not, this is an adoption blog, not a political one, although my obsession with gardening and nutrition often show through.

Last night I made a big ole pot of black eyed peas with brown rice and tomato sauce rich in garlic and jalapenos, grated cheese on top. We didn't use forks, instead everyone dipped into their plate with Mission Salsa Roja tortilla chips

So today, with highs in the mid-seventies, we'll take our flatulent and fragrant bean-eating selves outside and get the lettuce, beets, chard and peas planted. I've set up my grow lights in the house for the tomatoes, peppers and eggplants, plus several herbs, and obviously I feel life is worth living once again, feeling the warm sun wrinkle my skin and the salty sweat drip into my eyes.

Ahhhh...........Heaven to me.

Blame it on the Bubbas, but I have a tough time not cracking up when they're so wound up and gassy.

Strippers?

My sweetest and most English-challenged daughter, Carolina, told me she'd taken the kids to see Chippendales.

"You did what?" I'd hollered.

"You know, mama, the chipmunks."

"Ohhhhhhhhhh, Alvin and the Chipmunks," I sighed in relief as I told her what Chippendales was.

My digital camera is being repaired but thankfully a reader, JEM, sent this to me.

Wonderful baptism this morning, Pastor Tony had videotaped the 18 people being baptized, a little moment in which they talked and it was played back on the screen before they were dunked - remember we're Church of God - none of this sprinkling.

Tabby couldn't have been cuter, they put subtitles up there which cracked us up - heck she was speaking English.

Nando, super excited, jumped in when the pastor wasn't looking, provoking my friend Debbie to say, "Lordy looks like the pastor done lost one up there." Nando came up spluttering and laughing and then got baptized properly.

Sabrina, Scotty and Jack's baptisms all went smoothly making me very proud but untearful until my friend, Chris, who'd just lost his wife in September went up there. His words made the entire church cry. Incredibly moving, so much so - he really got to Edgar who absolutely adores him anyway.

A creature of habit I am, no doubt. Susan Ross not there sitting with me in Sunday School... girlfriend, you gotta get well soon.

Carolina, Jose and their five kids were all there with us, Monica's family and Grandma and Grandpa too who took all the January and February birthday kids out to lunch at an all you can eat Chinese food buffet.

I hightailed it out back to yank up last year's tomato plants and rotate the cages over to the next bed for spring.

Scotty picked the first daffodils, three days later than usual, but I'm happy.

Bamboo Gift

Planting Viroflay Spinach boosted my way sour mood yesterday, nothing like a couple of hours battling the rhizomes of quack grass to rip the skin off my fingers yet soothe my seething soul with solace. A purely pissy example of alliteration but thinking any harder than this on my first cup of coffee is concentration wasted.

I'm still aggravated overall with quite a few of my children.

After flouncing into church last Sunday and not deigning to even speak to me for no discernible reason, Edgar unexpectedly pranced out to my big back garden yesterday afternoon with his beautiful girlfriend who I really like, and he gave me an early Valentine's gift of a bamboo plant trained into a heart shape. Honestly I wonder about that boy.

However I don't have any indoor bamboo so I was pleased as punch. Years ago I ordered three clumps of bamboo from an Alabama source that I'm very plased with - on the edge of the first meadow, they've slowly spread nicely into small groves.

I finally had success with propagating a rose. I'd seen a demonstration where you take a clipping and stick it in the ground with a mason jar on top. Leave it alone and it'll root. OK I can do that, but every year since some yoyo around here has brought the jar into the house. They never pick anything else up that they've strown around outside - why that?

This year I'd hid my attempt deep in a bed and it was left alone to root slowly, new growth apparent yesterday bringing a slow smile to my stressed out face.

Today also will be pretty, after church I get to weed again. Sabrina, Jack, Tabby, Nando and Scotty are being baptized today, their choice and they are excited. Our church makes a big production out of it...as it should.

Decency

One of the first things I do each morning is check the five day forecast, looking ahead and forward both to any chance of rain and warmer temps.

Every kid who has moved into our family has a weird fixation on meaningless cartoons, I know that such mindless viewing seems to anesthesize their stressed out minds. I know that no child should have had to endure what they've been through and that therapy often makes them uncomfortable as they feel forced to relive horrible experiences, yet I also understand that facing and working through their past will enable them to face their futue in an emotionally healthy manner.

In many ways, I'm thankful for the three grandchildren I've also raised, now 7, 10 and 11, for reminding me how a "normal" child should function. Otherwise I might have lost sight, not had a benchmark for comparison.

Raising Sarah mainly as an only child decades ago seems to have been so different. My blood pressure rarely soared, I can remember very few instances, nor does it spike with these three children. I know it is not fair to compare, but living with deep hatred and resentment emanating from people takes its toll on a person.

My seven year old is fascinated with National Geographic specials, recently watching some on oil rigs, explosives, dams, skyscrapers and other engineering marvels, over and over. It is not mindless TV watching, he is inquisitive and glued to it. If he has the remote, he'll watch the previously taped shows like these, if JoJo has the remote, he'll watch hours of Sponge Bob. Don't tell me this isn't indicative of IQs and maturity levels. JoJo needs a balm, needs to not think at times, but rather to just be entertained. I realize that, but I also need to steer him towards a higher order of thought processes.

I'm allowing them, this morning, to watch a NG special on airplanes while we wait on the temperatures to warm up. It's time to direct seed lettuce, peas, potatoes and spinach.

I'm again fighting that sense of futileness...the why am I doing all this if the kids choose to turn out to be thieves and in jail; rejecting me and a decent value system? The overt hatefulness has pierced me to the core, weighing very heavily on me.

I've prayed over my own feelings, asking God to give me a release in certain areas or guidance, so far I have no answers, I feel as if I'm in the waiting room. Tough on a doer like me.

I need to re-center myself; to dig in the dirt and get physically exhausted. I feel bitterly disappointed in some of my children and in the way they think it is OK to treat human beings.

It is so NOT OK. Heck with gratitude, just give me decency.

Getting Through

Standing water? Ain't that a sight for sore eyes. Huge storms brought us over an inch of rain and my heart swells with joy at the sight.

So deeply frustrated here with unbelievably hard-hearted children that I absolutely verbally unloaded on my parents, something I rarely do as they want to solve the problems and not see me in such distress.

Well this isn't resolveable, this is my life. Dr. Mandy told me of a study that while not at all encouraging was, at least, explanatory.

I feel, at times, as if I'm serving time. Then I look at my grandchildren and I'm positive I can survive.

Two of my usually reasonable, well-behaved children, Sabrina and Chuy, were unusually awful last night. When the good kids act bad it is terribly disheartening. So much so that I waver in my resolve to continue promoting adoption at AAN and on my pro blog. What if I'm simply contributing to the misery of others?

I'm allowed to have these thoughts, worries and concerns.

Even Sarah finds my favorite radio station to be too "old folks" compared to a much younger driven 104.7. This morning I was telling Fabian, "Boy, you just wait until you're 53 and your nerves are jangled past redemption. You'll then find this music very soothing."

He snorted.