Ya think?

I just got a letter from the mental health department of YDC telling me that Pepe is a behavior problem. Ya think?

The letter reads: "He must now remain within arm's distance of an officer when relocating from place to place and must remain in his room since he harasses other people. He will be checked by staff every ten minutes to make sure he is stable. He has had a great deal of trouble getting along with others."

Here's the kicker: "We ask that you encourage your child to comply with the rules of the facility, the officers and be thoughtful." Emphasis mine. Be thoughtful? How about 'Don't be homicidal'? Would that be too much to ask?

OK folks, I told you he had issues.

They have a staff to tend to him and police officers...not a 53 year old mother trying to protect her other children.

I also heard from the previous psychiatric facility that kept wanting me to come get him. They diagnosed him as Bipolar but not an immediate threat even though he told folks he'd kill me if I argued (Tried to parent him in any way.)

I find this astounding. Utterly shocking and unconscionable. This guy will never function normally in society. Am I yelling? I am just so outraged.

I promise to fight to the best of my ability to keep finding him the help that he needs for his own protection and for our safety.

Failing Tests - School/Sobriety

This Michael Pollan book, In Defense of Food, is fairly slow reading as I have to read it carefully and thoughtfully in order to literally digest his thoughts. He's nailed me several times, pointing out that healthy folks like me, overly concerned with nutrition, often miss the flowers for the trees. He calls it 'nutritionism' and one example was the low fat bandwagon that everyone jumped on, including me, to the detriment of our health. A body needs fat, needs good fat.

He's simply saying to read the labels, avoid the chemically enhanced, non-foods. What's up with this high fructose corn syrup in everything? I even found sugar as an ingredient in a can of organic diced tomatoes. Sugar with tomatoes? Are you kidding me? Gross.

Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants. An Eater's manifesto.

Reading about eating distracts me from worrying about the older children who still don't believe a few simple concepts such as stealing will put you in jail as will drinking and driving.

I was railing outloud last night, "I know y'all think I'm just an old-fashioned church lady with stodgy rules, but this open rebellion against the laws of our society doesn't work. Who doesn't get that?"

Javy'd replied, "I don't think you're old, Mom."

"My point is," I'd hissed," If I don't teach y'all the ways of the world, the world will teach you. A DUI stays on your record forever."

This kid of mine who is drinking came from an alcoholic father who literally drank himself to death. Several of my children came out of that, the rest came out of drug infested backgrounds. I read with great interest Claudia and Kari's blogs that detail the FAS and FAE inability to comprehend the links between behavior and consequences.

How does one get 3 DUIs in six months? I'm staggered by this.

What's the point of me working so hard here if it'll all be for nothing? I'll just have elevated blood pressure from pure frustration, stress from everyone bucking the system and receiving deeply damaging consequences.

I will not participate in law-breaking antics, I'll not support anyone who chooses to do so. I had gently kicked this grown kid out of our home saying, "If you can afford alcohol, you can afford to pay rent. I'm not giving you free rent so you can afford to drink."

I will not ever allow anyone to have guns, alcohol or drugs on my property. Call me narrow-minded, I don't care. I hate alcohol and the damage that it does to human beings.

He'd been living here for a year and a half after leaving the Navy, quitting jobs, sleeping all day, not saving any money, and not going to church. My one rule for a grown kid who lives here rent-free is church attendance. If you don't like my rules, get your own place, this kid is nearing thirty for goodness sake. He doesn't even own a car, someone elses's car got impounded. He'd done that once to Big Joe's car now Joe surely won't bail him out, if it is even possible to bail out a third time offender. I'd much rather have him locked up, unable to access alcohol or contribule to drunk-driving injuries to other innocents.

I'll bust my butt to come up with college tuition and other positives, but I'll offer zero interest to negative and hurtful choices that are being made without a thought.It's hard enough without adding alcohol to the mix. Even Joey has come to understand that, telling me on the phone, "Mom, you really were right. I didn't know how good I had it at home."

I have grown kids who are trying to do right and suffering through heartbreak. Life is HARD and often painfully unfair.

Fabian is still trying hard to do right, he went out running errands with Miriam yesterday, home by dark. He has maintained this good attitude now for over 100 days, the longest stretch ever in his life and I'm very grateful for this lull in action. He struggles with his grades though, not a book learner, surrounded by over-achievers at his high school sometimes paralyzing him into inaction. "Want me to quiz you for World History?" I offer, only to hear a "Nah, I got it," resulting in a 30 on the quiz and a 10 on the retest. How is that even possible?

Scotty, described by his former foster mother as disruptive, is turning out to be only high-strung. He had himself a little meltdown yesterday, I'd ordered him to time-out for an infraction of a rule. He'd thrown himself on the floor, screaming and banging against the wall for 15 minutes, finally quieting down and eventually apologizing. A human illustration of progress. Ms. Carr is his teacher this year and he's come a long way under her tutelage and guidance.








Photo Credit Anya Rice

Cooking in my Thermal PJs A Month Ago

A lady had called me asking if I'd come speak at her church for a women's group and I declined politely. I don't feel called to speak. I don't feel like a speaker, I feel like a writer because my audience can then skip over the boring parts, walk away, and/or get around to reading what interests them when they feel like it. Sarah pointed out that I get bored anyway trying to recap or recall this whole 'building my family story.'

"Remember when you tried to blog it all recently? You forgot entire groups and used one of Yolie's old articles. Your mind wandered. You bored yourself."

Good point, I do lose my train of through frequently and my hyperactivity kicks in and makes me fidget, squirm and pass gas at inopportune moments just for entertainment purposes. Which reminds me, JoJo pooted like a tuba, a trombone and a saxophone yesterday in the van, telling us he'd created his own brass band. I'd giggled worse than the children.

Did your shopping list kill songbirds? All the more reason to grow food. If I only had a window space, I'd still grow food in containers.

Our prayer request list was long in Sunday School today, so many folks with sicknesses, two with back problems, my friend Linda B needs prayer, and then a sad good-bye at church. Makes me feel guilty for my constant pouting lately. I'm healthy and usually happy - what more could I want?

We keep "Cindy's Children" up on the prayer board as so many of mine constantly need prayer. To list it all specifically would take days but my heart is super burdened lately for a son who is struggling with alcohol.

Photo Credit Anya Rice

Amusingly Mental Calculations

Nicole asked if we were going to participate yesterday in Earth Hour and while I'd certainly planned to do so, life got in the way and we did not do it. I consoled myself with my own feeble platitudes regarding how much I try and make every hour Earth Hour using CFC light bulbs, not using our AC 90% of the summer, not driving hardly anywhere, my worm farm and chicken tractors, recycling, precycling, composting, etc. I still felt guilty though. This from someone who has never owned an electric can opener.

But that goes back to my inane math computations that flit through my head with startling regularity. If I burn X number of calories each time I open a can, or don't use some other labor saving device, think after a lifetime of doing so, I've probably saved myself from having to buy a gym membership that I'd never have been able to either afford nor use.

Just as I mentally calculate my Nike shoes, bought new several years ago, on sale, divide the number of times I've worn them (every day in winter) by their original cost of $39.99 and each wearing has likely cost me a negative amount of money. The shoes owe me dollars now. Yes I really do think this way constantly.

Patti in Iowa ate asparagus yesterday, or more importantly so did her children. One of my dumbest gardening moves 15 years ago was when I planted asparagus in the second to last permaculture bed which meant the fronds in summer shadowed another bed. A dozen years after the fact, I yanked them up, aggravated with having to prop them every year trying to shorten the shade factor. I didn't replant (second bad move) and regret it every spring. So duh Cindy - dig another bed and get going.

I had 200 square feet in asparagus and that still wasn't enough for us. Fresh asparagus, right out of the earth, is heavenly delectable. Third dumb move was putting two fig trees smack too close together, no remediation possible. What was I thinking? A dozen fig bushes/trees later is still not enough for a piglet like me. I adore fresh figs as do my children.

Paulanne remarked they'd starve if they had to depend only on their garden. Me too honey, it's big, but not big enough and that's my lifetime goal, my happiness project, my obsession and desire all rolled into one.

From Plenty: "Americans spend an average of 48 minutes shopping each day, and seven on religious and spiritual activities. More than two and a half hours watching television and eight minutes volunteering for civic groups. A study in the United Kingdom showed that the amount of time people now spend driving to the supermarket, looking for parking, and wandering the lengthy aisles in search of frozen pizzas or pre-mixed salads is nearly equal to that spent preparing food from scratch twenty years ago."

Ouch, think about it. I double dawg guarantee that I will obsess all day over those descriptive minutes, trying to calculate my garden time vs gas expenditures driving to Wal-Mart. A pre-mixed salad versus my varieties of leaf lettuce that bolt to seed about the same time as the tomatoes, cucumbers, squash and peppers come in, forcing me to eat lettuce-less summer salads for the next 100 delicious days.

Photo Credit Anya Rice

Choices

I've recently become a regular reader at The Simple Dollar and he reviewed this book, teasing me with some very interesting thoughts put forth by this author.

Or how about this thought, "Every time you spend a dollar, you sacrifice a bit of your future," from The Unclutterer explaining his theories regarding "The Real Cost of Financial Clutter on the Road to a Remarkable Life."

I love this stuff and the kids are blasting Nickelodeon, it's raining, I've fed everyone, washed six loads of clothes and cleaned the kitchen after a full day of soccer, now treating myself to some reading time, spending more than a few minutes in The Happiness Project pages.

A Cast of Characters

These pictures are only a month or so old yet springtime has spectacularly exploded around here since then, the backdrop has gone from dull greys and browns to beautiful pinks, greens, fuchsias and other dazzling bloom colors.

Filling out paperwork in the orthopedic office yesterday I was cautiously asked, "Did you adopt some children?"

"Yes," not looking up as I filled out all the unnecessary information that I'm constantly asked.

"Like, a lot of children. Really a lot of children?" the pretty lady pushed.

"Yeah, does it show?"

"No," she was kind of flustered, like she'd pointed out how raggedy I looked. "I thought you were Yolie's mom."

Now I'm grinning with pride, "Yes, Yolie's mine," but before I could say more another nurse walking by remarked, "Not again!"

Lily hadn't been outside but fifteen minutes or so enjoying balmy weather and flying through the meadow hunting grasshoppers to feed to the chickens when she tripped, fell and broke her arm...hardly three months after the cast came off from the last time. This is her fifth time. Alex broke her arm three times at school during her elementary years.

We'd built another chicken tractor, our deluxe redneck barrio version, the rooster was thrilled and scratching and pooping like he was supposed to do, so Lily wanted to reward him with the insect delicacies. This is a yogurt eating, milk drinking ten year old beautiful girl whose bones should be stronger I'd venture to say, but apparently not.

Fortunately I had Carolina to babysit while Fabian, Jack and I loaded Lily into the van, bypassing the emergency room as they'd just have sent us to the orthopedic clinic. The doctor told us we'd have had to redo the xrays as they're never happy with the hospital ones, so we saved a huge step and several hours.

"You're Joe's Mom aren't you?" another assistant asked me, yep the ladies always ask about Joe. This is a huge office, they treat the UGA athletes but we've also been there a number of times.

Sarah came to backup Carolina and Chuy still managed to step on a nail outside.

Tony had a massive meltdown by bedtime, screaming, crying, kicking his door repetitively while I ignored the clamor. He came to apologize an hour later but I told him I'd discuss it in the morning and I found a letter of apology here by my laptop when I came down to chugalug my coffee.

Now we need to put cleats, shinguards, socks and shorts on everyone since Saturdays mean soccer practice down at the park.

I underline stuff that speaks to me in books I'm reading. Sarah quipped I was still writing book reports as she's waiting for me to pass Plenty to her. OK, well I just want to mention a couple of things the author pointed out such as folks nowadays can't "differentiate between asparagus season and the squash harvest," no wonder we Americans can't manage to eat locally.

This is important also, "50% of the vegetables that they do eat comprise just three foods: iceberg lettuce, potatoes in the form of french fries and canned tomatoes."

That's shocking to me, inexcusable, no wonder folks are unhealthy. A Dietitian "canvasses her students to find out what foods they've never eaten. She is astounded by the list: fresh berries and cherries, kiwi fruit, apricots, rhubarb and plums; arugula, Swiss chard, kale, beets, artichokes and rutabaga."

And country folks are considered backwards? Heck we eat this stuff straight out of the ground. Iceberg lettuce has nearly zero nutritive value, I grow about six varieties of dark green leaf lettuces that taste rich and are loaded with minerals and vitamins.

I wish I didn't need to sleep, I wish the world would hold still and let me plant all night long, get more done, have more food growing....

But I did get to watch the Atlanta Braves on a high def channel thanks to Daniel calling and telling me how.

Good Gracious!

4/19/2008 U6 Daredevils 9:00 AM
4/19/2008 U12 Stingrays 10:00 AM
4/19/2008 U8 Hornets 11:00 AM
4/19/2008 U14 Pirates 1:00 PM
4/19/2008 U18 Freedom 2:00 PM
4/19/2008 U10 Panthers 3:00 PM

I just color coded our soccer schedule and sent it to the older kids who make an effort to attend games. This is an example of a Saturday schedule for us.

I will be on that field for the forseeable future from now until the end of May.

First Day Of Spring Break 08

My Pj uniform consists of t-shirts, sweatshirts, exercise pants, looney tunes flannels, fake-silk leggings or whatever has come in a donated bag. Suzanne suggested sending me something fancy, but truly y'all I am a absolute piglet. I spill stuff, kids wipe their faces on me, I cwap up my clothes so fast that it's a good thing I have no money invested in them.

I'd dropped a jellybean outside on the ground on Easter and sheepishly picked it back up to eat. That wasn't the yucky part, my hands were filthy from weeding but, to me, that's healthy dirt. I shouldn't have eaten the jellybean, the dirt was the nutritious part. I ate every single radish in the greenhouse straight out of the ground, knocking the soil off first, biting off the tough ends and spitting into the compost heap.

I fall asleep wearing my comfy uniform, get up and go, make a mess and head on out of here. It's not like I need to impress anyone. Almost 54 year old ladies are invisible to society, dinosaurs put out to pasture or whatever...I find it infinitely freeing. I've never felt more alive than when I hit my 50s. Heck, I've waited fifty years for this freedom.

In my thirties, when I studies Larry Burkett's ideas, sure there was a catch, cynical and too worldly, I studied my Bible and all the references he used. He railed then against home equity loans, get out of debt folks, shun the materialistic demands of our peers, and year later I am so grateful that I learned what he taught. The NY Times are pracically quoting his thoughts.

The kids are out of school now for Spring Break. We always need the downtime as a family - let's clean the house, plant the garden, emotionally regroup, and work on our issues.

Miriam is 19 today, a beautiful woman who has made me proud of her. She and Vanessa took Mayra, Martin, Javy and Fabian to soccer practice last night, theirs is an 8 p.m. time slot and I need to be home getting the others to bed.

An advertisement on TV last night suggested, "All women want to be the cutest in any room they enter," or something inane like that prompting me to snicker, "Lord have mercy! I've never been the cutest woman in any room."

CW wryly commented, "Now you are," motioning around us, surrounded by Bubbas I was the only woman in the room right then. "Dubs," I hooted, "I'm gonna blog that."

On Sarah's recommendation I'm reading Michael Pollan's In Defense of Food and am staggered by his every word. Shoot yeah, I'll be quoting it here, it is awesome.

The comments I received on my paid goodbye blog have moved me and some of y'all held your thoughts, posting here instead and "Nobody" and Monica's remarks spur me on to keep telling it like it is, trying to portray a balanced, yet difficult life here with my children

I hope Grandpa goes back and read yesterday's comments about him walking to Nando's school. He and Grandma went to Myrtle Beach last night, I hope she drove as he sure needed a nap after his big adventure.

Anna's comment about being attacked by a foster son moved me. Many of you have written about your similar, or worse, ordeals in the comments section. Such moving comments that I'm often tempted to quote them in their entirety and put in my posts. I'd encourage folks to go back and read through some of the comments as our lives are so parallel...at least in the level of difficulties - shared experiences in which we find ourselves hurt, befuddled, frustrated and baffled.

I'm feeling waves of relief these past two nights with Pepe tended to, younger children expressing their deep fear of him to Dr. Mandy yesterday, I will continue to strive to keep us safe here at home.

Right now everyone, but Miriam, is awake and happy. Miriam snoring until her UPS shift starts later this morning. My house is calm, even happy, with the no-school relief evident. Most of them like school and love their teachers but there is something freeing about some days off from their routines.

Miss Donna gave Tabby her phone number as Tabby has such tough times with transitions. "Call her midweek," I suggested to my baby daughter, knowing that by then Tabby's irrational and continuing feelings of abandonment will have her wide-eyed and skittish. The end of the school year will be tough, this is a mini-prep.

I'd no more typed the last paragraph when JoJo had one of his screaming fits over nothing. Jeepers. Well it was quiet for a minute there.

Photo Credit Anya Rice

Plodding Forward But Smiling With Relief

The judge yesterday asked me how Fabian was doing nowadays. Proud to give a good report I remembered how she'd help me find programs for Fabian, Teresa and Alex so far over the years. Teresa is hanging on to her pathological behaviors, Alex has struggled, over 18 I can't keep her safe anymore and I worry.

This afternoon I went to the bank to get my signature notarized. I'd just gone to have my elbow xrayed since a weird bone seems to be poking through the bruise, the Xray showed no bone damage thankfully but it pains me to rest my elbow on anything.

Gingerly resting it on the counter, I signed some papers for Pepe to get some mental health placements hopefully and next to my damaged elbow was a stack of brochures for the Georgia Foster and Adoption Program, showing smiling faces of cute kids facing benevolent looking upper class parent figures.

The irony wasn't lost on me.

Can I get a witness? Tell the real story? Part of why I stopped blogging on the paid blog is I don't feel like I can be very encouraging to other adopters at the moment. I dearly want other folks to adopt children but I want them to be prepared and it's not always a pretty sight to behold.

I also am acutely aware that I've personally been very blessed in our ability to find help and resources. I know that dearly and I'm filled with gratitude, but it is always so very difficult and parents should not have to be hurt in the process. I'm very blessed to have an excellent caseworker/confidante, Dr. Mandy, Miss Kim, our juvenile judge, Dr. G, our school system, our church, our community and so many others who have helped us find help.

A comedy of errors today, I bolted outta here for five dentist appointments, leaving Grandpa to get to Nando's kindergarten Barn Dance this morning. Grandpa's Suburban battery was dead so he ended up walking the couple of miles to school - this guy's 78 years old. A warm morning though and I got there barely in time to participate also so Nando was happy.

My elbow is ugly and it hurts.

Resigning From My Other Blog

After 15 months of writing for adoption.com, I wrote my last post today. I feel relieved yet regret having to stop doing something that made me feel more grown-up.

I was always mentally dressed up there even if I was still in my raggedy ole pjs, here with y'all I'm definitely in my pjs with food crumbs in my hair and garden dirt under my fingernails, my hair's in a clip and I still have on the nail apron, that I keep plant seeds in, wrapped around me.

Between all these soccer teams going and my desire to be outside 24-7, I just ran out of time to write.

The SUN Shone On Me Today

I crawled out of my raggedy pjs - a red pair that came in a donated bag and Yolie said made my butt look too big - "please don't wear those in public anymore." I put on my church outfit and went to court 30 minutes before anyone else.

I found the clerk of juvenile court and begged to be put on the docket. "I'm really sorry but it's a full one today." Nice as she could be. I fought tears. When folks are nice to me I'm off balance.

I told her I'd be sitting there reading a book anyway which I did and a judge I've known since he was a teenager, his mom's been in church with me for 25 years, came by to chat with me. He's been aware of what I've been going through.

I waited hardly another hour, a reporter called me out of the blue wanting to do a heartwarming story about our family.

You gotta be kidding I thought to myself. What's heart warming about an injured mother?

The psych hospital called, "Come get him now!"

Why do I answer this dern cell phone?

Then they called DFACS on me.

A different clerk called me into court and I gathered up my files and trotted in like a silly, hopeful puppy, elated beyond belief and hoping against hope.

The juvenile judge heard me out, this same judge who has helped me over the years get the help that several of my children have desperately needed. She overrode a decision by DJJ. DJJ has been trying to help, we have a great DJJ system here but their hands are tied also. They and the mental health people are acutely aware of the damage done by a total lack of funding options, sending our society to hell in a handbasket before our eyes.

The judge bought us some time, sent a deputy to go get Pepe and detain him until the next court date in early April.

My children and I are safe now. That's all I wanted, that and the mental health help for Pepe that I'm still striving to obtain.

My sigh of relief did make me cry. I went to my truck and could hardly catch my breath, so severely stressed by fear lately. Tough girls don't cry but I've really taken a beating; emotionally, figurative and physically.

Y'all's prayers have moved the hands of God, this I deeply believe.

Barging In On A Court Docket

9:20 at night, Tuesday and Thursday, before I have everyone home from soccer practice making for some draggy folks each morning. Monica has been a huge help here in the evening if I need a babysitter for Tabby, everyone else wants to go run on the soccer fields and Lord knows we need to expend some energy.

Pepe didn't get put on the juvenile court docket until mid- April but I'm going to show up anyway and see if the judge will hear me. It's a long shot, but it's my only shot at the moment.

I'm documenting the phone calls I've made, all the contacts, everything in this uphill fight to find help for Pepe and safety for my family.

My grown kid in Atlanta who'd spent years in a psychiatric facility, now over 18 and I'm unable to protect her as she's legally allowed to run the streets, was arrested again. I'm OK with that as then I know she is safe and being fed.

Evelyn commented on Jonathan and Paloma's anger and I've put myself in those figurative shoes while thinking through what she said. She's so correct.

Gotta go find clean clothes for court....

All I Can Say Is Wow

A friend of mine, Pat, is a social worker up north and an adoptive mom of a large family. She's allowed me to share this. I hope it speaks to you like it did to me:

I have spent the last two weeks wondering if the thirty plus years of parenting 22 children from child welfare, plus the dozen foster children, was a waste of my life. It's not often I get in this mood but between my life, and Cindy Bodie's current experiences, ....well...

So Saturday I get a call from one of my lost sheep. Ray was abandoned in a crack house at 18 months. He was then placed in a foster home where he called a "State kid"...state kids were not allowed in the living room, state kids had one bike to share, nothing else. When he was 3, two newborn boys were placed in the home. I adopted these two boys when they were turning 4, Ray was left alone for a year. His worker begged me to take him too, but I was very concerned about his RAD and anger issues. But I did take him, and he tortured me for it. He was 7 at placement and the next 7 years were like living in a war zone.

At 14, he called CPS and told them he was abused so they put him in a group home. The group home couldn't manage his behavior, so at 16 he was put in independent living in his own apartment. I paid for him to get a GED, he was awarded a FULL college but shot up the campus and went to jail instead. Spent the next couple of years being a thug.

I last saw him in Feb.06 when he stopped by and was high as a kite and tried to make a drug deal from my phone. I asked him to leave.

He called me Saturday, asked if he could come by and bring his girlfriend. I said OK. When he arrived he handed me a beautiful little 22 month old girl and said "say hi to your Grandma". His girlfriend is elegant, sophisticated, educated and has a good heart and sweet spirit. Ray is no longer a thug but a gentleman. He sat and talked and apologized for what he put me through. He asked what is wrong with teenagers that they can't see all that their parents are trying to teach them? He said now that he is a month from 25 he realizes he was so lucky to be adopted, and to have a mother who didn't smoke, drink, party....He said the people he meets have had hard ghetto lives and he told his girlfriend "I even had my own horse!".

Now he sees the good of the past, he's working and is a family man... he never called me anything, not mom, not Pat, nothing...now it was Mom, I love you, I appreciate what you did for me, can we be part of the family again? Of course!

So I guess all I can say is there is hope...if we can just hang-in there long enough for our kids to grow-up.
Pat

Pizza for Supper and Other Scattered Thoughts

Joey was arrested again for 'contempt of municipal court.' I don't know what that means. I'd written about kids who don't pay their rent and got an angry phone call from one who thought I was outting him. I didn't name names, I used a conglomeration of incidents from my grown children. I should have pointed out how one married couple of ours has never paid rent. Got married, immediately bought a house and is now building a new one. Yeah, doing something in the right order pays off. My lame values or logic? Hats off to Chuck and Yolie, their son's big smile here illustrating this post.

Since watching the National Geographic special Six Degrees That Could Change The World, I'm even more concerned about my carbon footprint. They depicted puffs of black smoke coming off of people to represent this effect and I'm getting nearly paranoid now about it, turning off lights constantly, recycling and watching our energy output. I have Ms Carr to thank for getting me back where I used to be in regards to recycling, Kimberly and Travis telling me they don't even have trash service at their house - a goal I want - resulting in nearly zero waste.

Very much two peas in a pod, Sarah and I call each other constantly with new theories and plans, stuff we've read and ideas that interest us. So glad she lives within spitting distance, I have the next 50 years to work with food production alongside her. Sarah and I look alike, talk alike and think alike, just 19 short years separating our ages, the Back to the Land movement of the 70s deeply imprinted on us in a huge way. She married a wonderful man who supports her ideas and plans.

A new lifetime bonus is Yolie living between Sarah and I. I asked Chuck to build a path that crosses through their kitchen as I walk to Sarah's home. Ray Ray and CJ are close to each other, Cindy Mae and Hazel Bay as well. Thank you Lord for my many blessings. Carolina and Jose will build on adjoining acreage at some point also.

Fabian's DJJ counselor asked me, like everyone else also asks, "When do you get a vacation?"

I thought he meant my family and I started explaining how we used to go to the beach every summer, but for the past five years the behaviors here have been too severe.

"No, you," he stressed.

For the ten thousandth time I found myself explaining that the garden is my vacation and truly I'm not kidding. That's where I want to be, doing what I want to do, it soothes me and reinvigorates me everyday as I muddle through.

I cannot, and will not leave my children so I can 'vacation.' I'd likely never come back if I got a taste of freedom. I'm kidding. There'd be heck to pay at home certainly. Me leaving would trigger rejection and abandonment issues, the acting out behaviors would be staggering and I'd never find a babysitter, nor could I afford one, who could emotionally deal with all this. This is who I am and what I do. But I fall apart and kick the sand around my sandbox at times, I'm human.

"Mom" commented on my blog as well, indicating that, like Pat, we're her normal too. I appreciate the attaboys, y'all are my normal as well. Rachel had the best idea though, involving Krispy Kreme.

Maybe Pat, Tina, Rachel, Lisa, Dee and I should meet there one day, I think we all live within an hour's drive...but our cell phones would probably ring with disasters that we need to tend to, thus making any attempts at adult get-togethers nearly impossible. Heck, I've had trouble lately getting to the grocery store. Last night I ordered $5 large pizzas, we needed 10 just before soccer, I was out of anything worth cooking here. Mid-week pizza? The kids looked at me as if I might be tipping over the wrong way. Once a month we have the Saturday pizza, but Monday?

I finished the book Plenty, reading aloud to my children, "Americans consume nearly one cup of sugar a day," a thought that nearly makes me vomit. I self-righteously thought, "not me," since I don't drink sweetened anything and am careful about sweets. We don't even have a sack of sugar in the house, I don't like artificial sweeteners either, I don't like sweet period. Sweet drinks make my skin crawl.

Then I got busted when a dietitian pointed out, "Even people who tend to eat healthier still get into that rut of eating the same foods all the time." That's spectacularly true of me. Oops, gotta get better. This year I'd planted brussel sprouts something I'd never done before. This old dog is changing.

Yolie had to have a Come-To-Jesus Meeting with me this afternoon as I was losingit fast. A what's the point moment. Why continue if everyone reverts back to their horrible former circumstances while lying, stealing and pouring out their hatred, issues and anger upon me who's only trying to make life better because that's what God told me to do.

Sarah pointed out that my arm looks like I've been in a car wreck - eight days later it's still ugly and bruised. I take a ton of vitamins and don't usually bruise easily. Jonathan and Paloma seem to be disintegrating in front of my eyes. If they can't make me miserable, they turn and pour it out on the other kids.

How do we make kids get better? How do we try and save them from a life of incarceration? Should I continue to allow them to emit misery constantly upon everyone? What choice do I have?

Daniel called me wondering where Yolie was as she didn't answer either phone. He knows she's just busy somewhere but he needed her then, just as he always has, he wouldn't be half the man he is now if I hadn't adopted all three of them. He'd have grieved for her forever and vice versa.

I look at Chuy, a very bright 12 year old smack in the middle of his very tough sib group. Javy the oldest is struggling along, he'll make it, he has what it takes, but the other three are so full of debilitating issues.

Yolie reminded me of something we'd recently heard in church She's right and I needed to hear that. Ironically Pat's comment arrived soon after that, I'd dried my frustrated tears and starting hooting with laughter that Pat perceives us as normal. Yolie used to be her caseworker. I guess I heard what I needed to hear today.

And then some awesome news...Nando has perfect school attendance so far this year and an E in Math which means exceeds expectations. I'm so proud.

Trailer Parks

Sixteen or seventeen years ago Cristy invited a boy from another county to Wednesday night Youth Group and he brought along a friend who eventually married Cristy's then best friend. The bring-along guy had a friend, Dewayne, who eventually married Cristy's baby sister Monica.

Dewayne is sitting behind CJ in this photo and it was Dewayne, along with Chuck, who were with me when Pepe was not arrested for hurting me. Very outraged and shocked that an old bat like me would have been left so unprotected, Dewayne lost it a little yesterday when Edgar was his usual crotchety self, "Edgar, respect your Mama!" Dewayne snapped at him, taking Edgar aback totally. What? Another rooster in his barnyard?

Well I'm about tired also of Edgar's always bad mood and ill tempered negativity. I told you kids that life was hard. It's even harder when you make bad choices and expect it to turn out right.

Duh.

When they go out in the world and decide that Mama's rules suck and they want to break every single one of them, then they need to be able to live with the natural consequences. If one don't pay one's car insurance, they'll cancel it. If one doesn't pay the rent, one will be evicted, and so on and so on.

I have the inner knowledge that I taught them constantly but I can't make a grown person do right. Edgar will be 21 this week.

We have a nearby trashy trailer park. This is where my kids came from, not this particular one, but from a similar environment. I've found, over the last 20 years or so, that my children often are subconsciously drawn to that which once rejected them...the results many years later also contain elements of failure and dejection.

Five of my grown daughters are homeowners, the sixth one is making plans to build a house within the next couple of years. Joe should soon be able to buy somewhere and Jesse also has the capacity to do so. Daniel pays his rent and budgets his money beautifully. Yet others are inexplicably drawn to that trailer park mentality, others are lying to me about their living arrangement - which I don't understand - you're grown, live with it.

Why lie?

CPS is probably dreading me this morning. Will Cindy come take up space and time again demanding her family's personal safety? The supervisor asked me not to blow up her cell phone this weekend and I didn't. There was nothing she could do right then.

My phone will explode today with demands about Pepe. I will still refuse to allow him here as I truly want to live and he truly wants me to die. As if I'm the reason his birth mom murdered his birth father?

I've lost several days of housework due to the demands placed on me by other issues. Today I need to catch up which is an exercise in futility in itself.

A Quiet and Peaceful Easter - Like Normal People

Six picture tries here to get four people to smile into the camera.

My verbal diarrhea continues. It helps me cope. To write it out and see it in print allows me to think stuff through and as I pulled the stupid crabgrass from an older strawberry bed yesterday I thought about so many of y'all. Today I know I will focus mentally on my western counterpart, another mom of a very large family with very similar, and too often devastating, issues.

She has it harder than I do for a couple of reasons. It is still cold where she is and she doesn't have older sons to help protect her. She needs our prayer covering for her safety and for all their needs to be met.

Another poster in our local DFACS office read, "If safety and security are important to you - think what it means to a child in foster care."

There I sat bruised and injured thinking about the implications of that poster.

We had a quiet, successful Easter with gift baskets from Miss Lisa's connections to a neighboring county and their Honor Society. Ironic ain't it?

My laptop thief called today for the first time in months, apologetic yet not totally honest. It's a start towards mending the damaged relationship. Joey called also to wish me a Happy Easter. I'm still not ready to deal with him either. The level of trashing that has been done to me is phenomenal. I'm wiped out, paranoid and full of inner twitches.

Vanessa bought me roses, but gave me hugs and love. My beautiful Fantastic Four granddaughters shone. We'd gone to early service to avoid the Easter crowds and an added benefit was getting to go to church with Sarah and Preston who always attend first service.

My mom will be 78 in May and has a fantastic garden already. I swapped out a couple dozen strawberry plants for the "rent" as I'd had to plant my garlic bulbs in her garden last fall. Now I've added enough new garden beds to get me through this season. Maybe.

Grandma, Sarah and I all garden as did my grandparents. That's what you do. My kids all know how to do it, yet only a few care much about any part of it but the eating.

Yolie and I were talking about yesterday's mention that folks are so generationally removed from canning their produce. She pointed out - maybe it's a southern thing? Everyone I know had parents and grandparents who canned even if it was just putting up jams and jellies. Or maybe I'm just old.

We haven't had either a rage nor a cross word all day from anyone. My friend, Jeanne, volunteered to come help in another instance like yesterday so I could get kids where they needed to be but truly, having to protect another adult might be tough. I so appreciate the offer though. She's a Probation Officer and sees criminals on a daily basis yet I think some of my kids are worse? More angry and dangerous possibly.

But thankfully today was quiet, calm and I finally got all the strawberry plants planted. I planted a row of endive, probably kind of late for down South, so I put it in partial shade.

I'm thinking tomorrow will bring the next round in trying to find help for Pepe.

Plenty

Dear God, Why didn't You call me to write a book like this? Why did You think that raising traumatized children would be my forte?

I left size 8 1/2 stomp prints all over the new track at the new soccer field. I walked hard for an hour trying to release my pent up tension and aggravation over the fact that Paloma and Jonathan had terrible meltdowns while we were trying to get to the Easter egg hunt. Fabian caught Jonathan just before he came after me, angry and screaming because he couldn't find his shoes. That's MY fault?

Grandma and Grandpa nearly came unglued at the rampage, they ended up taking the five youngest children to another egg hunt and out for the afternoon while I walked furiously around and around a very lengthy new track that circled the entire new park.

This book that I'm reading, trying to hurry because Sarah wants it next, is superb.

"I figured I was at least four generations removed from the knowledge of how to can a tomato," the author related.

Huh?

Who doesn't know how to can a tomato? I'm zero generations removed and my children will follow suit, especially Sarah and likely Yolie, Cristy, Monica and others. It tastes better, it is better and it's the 100 foot diet, way more efficient than today's goal of local eating within 100 miles.

Monica was plainly shocked at the savagery of Jonathan and Paloma's mutual rage over nothing, afraid they'd re-injure my elbow, and when it was over she told me, "This sure isn't how we used to be." No kidding sister. She and her husband returned home later with roses for me and a gift for Fabian since he'd protected me.

When the world wearies, and society ceases to satisfy, there is always the garden.
(Minnie Aumonier)

That's where I spent the rest of the afternoon.

The "More On The Way' Possibilities

Yolie and I often see Daniel expressions superimposed on CJ's face, Daniel being his birth uncle, the genetic imprint is strong. In our family, birth sib groups keep their very strong emotional ties to each other, but after many years of being stable, the ties spread to others and are equally as firm. Now that our fourth generation is growing quickly the cousins are creating an interesting bond with each other. Sarah's son Ray is the largest and oldest cousin not yet in school and is looked up to by CJ, Tommy, and Alexander who are his usual playmates here while Tabby and Nando are in school.

All of our little kids are fascinating to watch as they are all so attached and concerned about each other. The Fantastic Four are all nosy and personable, checking everything out carefully, such fat and happy little girls. I look at Yolie's baby and am staggered when I allow myself to think about what Yolie must have gone through at that age. Within another year or so, as a very little girl, she began taking care of, and protecting, Joe and Daniel from their gang infested world in El Paso.

Daniel turned six the day I met him, now he's 22. The easiest son I ever raised, not one minute of problems, total pride instead. I've been asked before if he was my birth son. I'm flattered that someone would think so. Is it because we both have such dark eyebrows? Or is our closeness that obvious? He's emotionally glued to Yolie and is attached to Sarah as well. Like Yolie he is a caretaker and a nurturer but also an Army man, a college student and an athlete.

I once thought I'd just keep parenting forever. As kids grew up I'd adopt more and just keep going. I thought that's what God would have me to do. Kari wrote a great post on parenting as a verb.

In Stacie's DFACS office yesterday I saw a poster, "Don't ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."

That's what I've done. Parenting these rambunctious children of mine has made me feel very alive. Yeah, there's a good word. What I failed to realize, when I thought I'd continue adopting forever, was how exhaustingly demanding this would be on me 24-7 with no vacations other than sleeping at night which has become elusive at best.

Four years ago this July, marked in my Franklin Covey Planner was the feeling of doneness that washed over me when I told Pam, the Texas caseworker, I wanted to adopt Sabrina's sibling group. I heard an nearly audible, "That's it", in my deepest soul and it surprised me. I then fought my own inner guilt and selfishness. I pondered, floundered, struggled and internally debated. Why quit adopting when I still have so much to offer? Kind of egotistical of me to think that, but that's how I felt.

I felt initially rocked by that decision, but it also felt so right and so final.

It's feels even more right now after the last several years that have been so hard on me. My grandchildren need me, my grown children need me, and I'm still up to my bloodshot eyeballs in children here at home that need me. Not adopting for the last four years has stabilized us in very many ways in spite of my own inner turmoil and heavy Methodist Preacher's Kid guilt over not doing more.

I expect a lot out of myself. God built me strong. He made me to be a workhorse and I love it.

Dayna's sweet comment nearly brought me to tears this morning. Hopefully Dr. G's phone call has wiped out that impending debt and certainly y'all's prayers have it covered. Asked by Angela about the grandchildren to come on my profile. I've meant to change that to simply 'more on the way' and I can't blog the details yet as this past week we also faced an impending miscarriage that may not happen if she is being careful.

I read and appreciate all the comments, thinking while I work, pondering what y'all have written, not always getting time to respond but please know that all comments are embedded in my soul.

Surprisingly enough there's huge issues I haven't covered as we're resolving them or recovering from them. I read many other blogs and the common thread seems to be our many common struggles... or is that a big duh?

Yolie and Chuck have been drilling a well for several days on their new property and we've been praying for them to hit water while Sarah and Preston are quietly doing a huge work of service to someone that doesn't involve our family. Edgar came over three times in one day this week, visibly worried about me but being a guy, he's so unable to articulate his fears.

I have my last hundred and something strawberry plants on the kitchen counter to plant today while getting kids to soccer practice and other stuff on my To Do list that got lost in the shuffle this week while I've struggled with Pepe's issues. I'm hoping to take a break today from all that and get stuff done. I have not written on my paid blog while I think hard about continuing there or not.

Gathering My Strength from You All

Still working on all this, documenting every single phone contact, double checking with folks, and standing my ground as I feel all y'all's emotional strength and prayers going out for us.

Dr. Mandy explained the danger to the hospital staff who called me back and inexplicably told me that my county was filing abandonment charges against me at the moment.

I nearly threw up in the bushes. I'd been talking on the cell phone outside to keep my other children from worrying.

I called the DFACS Supervisor's cell number who told me that was certainly not the case. That she'd told the hospital that they will not pick up Pepe and they've advised me not to do so either.

Dr. G stepped up to the plate and hit a long ball. He called the hospital and had words with someone in charge and the discharge orders were rescinded. I was floored! Exclamation mark required, no demanded here.

"It was the right thing to do," he very modestly told me as I gushed my gratitude.

We've bought some time.

Prayer works.

I just hung up with the director of the adoption agency I've always used, she's advising me to keep records of everything as I always seem to have to be forced into proving something.

Enough Stress To Give Me My First Ever Nosebleed

I hardly slept at all last night, getting up early to read and pray, Tabby had a long, smoldering meltdown late last night unable to voice her fears, not really knowing what's going on since I don't confide in five year olds, but she and the other children witnessed the entire attack on me this week. Their level of tension is high, no one likes to see Mama get hurt.

I called the Governor's office early this morning and every high ranking state official I could think of calling, I got voice mails and left messages calmly detailing our crisis.

I took my dad with me, and my stack of files and documentation, to our county DFACS office and explained everything. They photographed my bruises and every time an official called me back I told them I was at DFACS and they were on speaker phone with a supervisor listening. Even when the psych hospital called twice and kept repeating that homicidal threats didn't necessarily translate into homicidal ideations. The DFACS caseworkers called many more psych facilities in an attempt to keep my family safe, but were turned down due to lack of bed space or the level of Jose's violence. Finally we found a place that will take him in a couple of weeks but there's nowhere for now.

But a scrawny 53 year old is supposed to maintain his homicidal rages and keep everyone safe?

I'm still refusing to go pick him up out of abject fear. It's Easter Weekend and a lot of folks aren't answering their phones.

The hospital therapist is supposed to be putting those threats in writing on their letterhead and then our local deputies are supposed to be filing terroristic threat charges. We'll see.

Dr. G and Dr. Mandy have been called in and I've lodged a DHR complaint although I'm not complaining about anyone as I feel everyone is trying to help...except the psych hospital, who like other psych hospitals are ready and willing to gamble with my life.

It was 31 degrees when I awoke this morning, I was nearly nauseous with fear anyway and thinking I'd lost 18 flats of irreplaceable seedlings might have sent me over the edge but it appears that my unheated greenhouse came through for me. So excited by some good news that I finally remembered to send Megamom the moon and stars watermelon seeds as I looked at the rare heirloom tomato seedlings she'd sent me.

She and Theresa have been in my shoes as have many of y'all. In the adoption of troubled older children this is not an unusual scenario at all. Paula and Claudia also have been in dangerous situations and under attack.

I appreciate the comments and there've been some wonderful ideas. I find myself unable to think clearly when I'm filled with such corrosive stress so y'all's level headedness has been exactly what I've needed.

I've also called an attorney who has fought for a child's mental health services before and won the case. The psych hospital will charge me $1000 a day until he gets moved from there but I'd rather be bankrupt than dead.

My other children need me.

This Stinks

I was told that Pepe was being discharged today. Period. He has a very sharp therapist who in short order ascertained from a phone session, between Pepe and I, that if I in any way tried to make him comply with any simple rule, he'd hurt someone. He demands that I not be in any room with him nor talk to him. Any violations will result in someone being injured. He told the therapist and other staff members that he'd kill me. The therapist called the police who said they couldn't do anything about a threat.

I've been told firmly that it'll cost me $1000 a day if I don't pick him up by midnight there in Atlanta.

So I can be broke or dead, those are my only two options after six hours of phone calls to folks all over the state who tell me the same thing, "Our hands are tied."

If I get hurt worse than I'm hurt now, then maybe something can be done. Should I take one for the team?

What if he hurts my children? I got hurt Sunday trying to protect Scotty.

I called CPS and told them what was going on, they called DJJ who suggested I put him in an emergency shelter but I am absolutely afraid of going to pick him up. If I tell any potential caretaker that Pepe is violent, they won't take him. How can I, in good conscience, unleash him on unsuspecting folks?

This now means I'll possibly be charged with abandonment. But if I let him come home and he hurts someone besides me then I didn't protect my children. There's a neglect charge.

He's made it very clear that someone is going to be hurt if they look at him, talk to him, breathe near him, or irritate him in any way. His perceptions of different 'offenses' by others are often imaginary ones.

I'm in a mess.I don't know what to do. I'm praying for an absolute miracle.

I've always tried to help folks, particularly evident by a couple of adoptions, and here I only want help in protecting my family and myself from someone who has injured me and told professionals that he will kill me.

My Favorite Day of the Year

It's the first day of spring, the happiest day for a gardener, knowing that I have 3 full seasons ahead of me in which to produce food, winter in Georgia is my only down time and my greenhouses are helping me change that in a nice way. It's also my 15th anniversary of living on this beautiful piece of land that I rarely forget to thank God for each and every day. I love it here. And then there's baseball to lift my spirits in spite of all the bullcrud around here lately.

I'm asked, "Why can't you just get rid of him?" Questioning why a violent, assaulting and combative person is allowed to remain in our family. "What's that teaching your other kids?" I'm questioned as if I'm remiss in remaining his mother.

You can't just call 1-800-GetThisKidOut. What if this were a birth child? What then? Adoption is the same, this is legally my child. I'm the one always hooting and hollering about this concept. It truly would be better for him and his siblings to legally remain mine but the truth is, he's now subject to way less services.

Foster children get the funds, not adoptive children and that's as it should be, but it leaves us adoptive parents out on a limb...and my limb hurts. I woke up unable to straighten out my elbow but now it's more flexible. I shouldn't have to deal with that at all and the pain triggers my resentment at what happened.

We have two full days here of early release, elementary and middle schoolers come home noonish. Ray and CJ are thrilled to have their playmates home early. CJ and Tabby had their picture made on CJ's new home site, smack between my house and Sarah's house.

I found Big Jose on a bicycle the other afternoon up on his new land, dreaming about the home he'll build for his family when he untangles his citizenship mess. Here's a man working his rear end off to provide excellently for his family of seven but drowning in paperwork and details from the once war-torn country he left as a teen.

I have a heap of mental health paperwork to fill out this morning, phone calls to return, laundry to do, dishes to wash and supper to start as we have several teams practicing soccer tonight.

There's some other fallout after this week's drama. Tabby's teacher reported that she is extra clingy, my older sons have been uneasily checking me out, the younger kids are irritable and clingy - not an attractive combination and my older daughters are just plain pissed. I'm a grandmother for goodness sakes. A bruised up one. That ain't right.

But TGIS - Thank God It's Springtime.

My Gifted Kids Sparking

I've often bragged that our family is a perfect bell curve what with four gited kids, four severely disturbed children and 31 extremely varying ranges of IQs, issues, challenges, flaws and positive qualities.

Today Sarah ran running to Daniel, who left after his UGA classes and came to help her videotape the CD sparking attempt at impressing Mark Bittman.

Interestingly one shot here shows all four of my gifted children working on this silly project taking my mind off of our recent events. Sarah updated and replaced the new video onto her most recent blog post and added music.

I'd spent the morning going to DJJ, a magistrate judge and then to the clerk of courts in an attempt to get something done. My elbow looks awful. At the clerk of courts I suddenly remembered I'd been called for jury duty recently. Stricken with instant fear, I asked her if I'd missed showing up. She checked and told me it was next week but they'd already removed me from the list knowing I was the sole caretaker of a large family.

I wondered if that was politespeak for the fact that I'd recently had too many family members on the court docket?

Sweet, sweet Daniel had sent me the UGA baseball schedule this morning telling me, "Hey mom I attached a home game schedule for uga baseball so if you have any way of getting to a game for a few innings I would love to watch some baseball with you. I highlighted the good games, this is our best team in a long time including 2004, 2006 when we went to college world series. Shortstop Gordon Beckham is contender for
National Player of the Year, and closer Josh Fields turned down MLB contract with BRAVES to stay another year, he played for Madison and I went 2/3 life time on him.. but now he throws 97! Alright, just let me know, love you, (kids get in $2 but i'm rich so i'll cover whoever you bring *under 10 children*) Love you, let me know if you need some muscle, Daniel"

Music to my ears.

The weird thing is Daniel just described two games against this guy, one in Madison County and later at an All-Star Game...I totally remember it. And the last strike out of that game.

I love baseball. I need to get my mind off of our violent Sunday evening...

Being Dismissed

I was in Child Development and Child Psychology classes in the 1970s when Sarah was a baby. I earned a degree in elementary education plus I've read voraciously over the years and I truly believe that I have, at least, a clue in regards to normal child behavior. To be treated so rudely by people who should be helping me, to be dismissed or to be considered a moron whose pie-in-the-sky mentality made her think she could make a difference in the lives of some very troubled children is starting to irk me in a big way

I went to the Sheriff yesterday to make sure charges had been filed against Pepe and nearly the first words out of his mouth, after I showed him my bruised and swollen elbow was, "Cindy I don't think you're being fair to my deputies. Their hands were tied."

Turns out they'd made a phone call to someone before they'd left my house and were told Pepe needed to remain in the custody of his parent. No one quite realized the gravity of my situation.

Until one has lived with murderous children who are consumed with hatred and misplaced feelings of retaliation against anyone and everyone, I don't think one has any idea as to the potential danger.

A comment yesterday about my daughter Yolie's letter of outrage and defense stressed their appreciation to her of her words from an adopted daughter. Truthfully I don't look at her like that, it more feels as if I birthed her so close are our emotional ties.

The children who are the most emotionally involved with me are also the most outraged at the moment, including some younger ones who are now petrified that something really could happen to their Superwoman. Kryptonite in the form of a troubled, raging and disturbed thirteen year old.

I don't even want to discuss how Sarah feels. She has been emailing back and forth with a NY Times food critic, I'll let her tell the story as it evolves, for now she is updating her blog. Her method of coping with recent events is certainly odd, even for a kid of mine, but oh so admirable.

Because I am so hurt, angry and negative regarding the help one will NOT get when one adopts older children, I'm not blogging on my paid blog right now, fearful of what might erupt uncontrollably from my mouth.

Comments Appreciated So Very Much

An anonymous commenter found this quote also from Mother Theresa, "The success of love is in the loving - it is not in the result of loving. Of course it is natural in love to want the best for the other person, but whether it turns out that way or not does not determine the value of what we have done."

I can still love Pepe, but I'd rather not live with him as he goes from 0 to 1000 in less than a second with absolutely no impulse control. I cannot keep either myself nor my children safe from him.

It behooves us to find help.

I was asked, "Why not just disrupt?"

Personally I'd probably love to do so, to just be shut of him, problem solved, but I have his four other siblings to think about. They are emotionally divided down the middle with the oldest two supporting any decision I make, the other two are so emotionally messed up that I'd need to disrupt on them as well. I don't know what to do right now. I haven't even had time to pray it through, I've just been reacting in crisis mode.

Tabby has melted down for two solid days, Jack went down crying this morning, neither made it to school. Seeing your mama, the only one who is there 24-7 for you, slammed into a wall, bruised and crying affects their very core of security. It is for that reason as well that I need to keep Pepe out of our house. Easier said than done.

I'm really not angry at the deputies. I'm also afraid to alienate anyone in local law enforcement, but I think I'll just show my bruised arm to the sheriff and make sure that the charges have been properly filed and that there is a court date

I am thinking about getting an attorney to help me force the state to keep adoptive parents safe, to get mental health services in place. The deputies told me also that their hands were tied and I understand that. They saw a calm 13 year old who said he wouldn't do it again and an angry mother.

However I'm not sure how much fight I have in me, if I'd be able to withstand the pressures of a counter attack while I'm still needed to be 100% here at home with my children, 150% this particular week. Yet I know if Pepe succeeds in harming me or anyone permanently, it'd be way worse.

JoJo told me that every teacher he encountered yesterday was aware of what happened from reading my blog. I'm glad about that as these teachers then help my children emotionally through their fears and possible meltdowns at school. A Probation Officer has called to offer advice as have other professionals in our community. I'm grateful for that.

When I went to the middle school to check Pepe and Javy (for protection) out to get to the mental health facility, Javy and I'd had to have a quick pow wow in Miss Kimberly's room. No students were in there but that teacher and her husband are aware and involved with my children. The community support is impressive and much needed.

JoJo called me a 'self-employed bus driver' when he hopped out of the van in the bus lane this morning forcing a belly laugh from me, reminding me I'd so rather be a silly girl than an injured lady. Being a victim is not my style and I need to do something about it.

Yolie wrote this letter that I'm going to share with the sheriff as Sharon's comment made us all think. Yolie and Sarah, my adoption worker and others have all chewed on the excellent comments, ideas and suggestions that y'all have offered.

I'd gone to comment on Linda Up North's heartbreaking post but got distracted by my kids. I've been there also in her shoes and I can totally relate. As much as I've vomited my emotions out here, you wouldn't believe all that I have also suppressed until I feel emotionally strong enough to share in public, knowing my experiences might help others.

My grown children are so strongly pissed off at the moment, Yolie trying to calm Daniel down, Big Joe coming to check on me, and the others hovering and fretting. This is no way to live.

Yolie, an LMSW, (Licensed Master Social Worker) wrote: "I am writing in regards to the incident that occurred yesterday at my mother’s house. To say that I am outraged at the fashion in which she was treated would be an understatement. My mother has done nothing but give her life to the cause of adoption. She has taken into her home and heart abused, neglected and abandoned foster children and adopted them, giving them (us) a place to finally call home. Of course, with this lifestyle comes challenges. While she expects this and deals with very difficult issues on a daily basis, it is unfair to offer no assistance to her when she asks for help. Yesterday she was abused by one of her children. He threw her into a wall after she had to push him in order to prevent him from assaulting our nine year old little brother, who was terrified. This abusive child was released from a mental institution only eight days prior to this incident (amidst protests from my mother). He is categorically violent and unruly and cannot be controlled. It took an older son to step in and keep my mother safe from this child yesterday. Since we are taught that the police are here to “Serve and Protect” it was the first instinct of my thirteen year old sister was to call the police. Upon arrival, and throughout their involvement, they chose to blame my mother for the actions of this child, as if she were the cause of his anger and violence. This child has been in foster care and witnessed violence most could not dream of. He is severely mentally ill and shows little emotion or concern for right and wrong. My mother was told that she “asked for this” by adopting so many children. This angers me so much. As a society we are bombarded with requests to “Foster and Adopt” or “Help a child in need,” yet offer no help to those who do. As a matter of fact, those who do often end up being mistreated and blamed for the actions of children who they adopted. Actions whose roots lead back to the birth parents, not the adoptive parents who are just trying to give them a better life. The police officers acted as if my mother had committed a crime for adopting children, while the one who threw her into a wall was seen as misunderstood. Because of this, my mother hid all the knives last night and had an older brother sleep by the door of this child’s room, in order to warn everyone if he attempted to harm anyone else. Where, I ask you, are those who are there to “Serve and Protect”? Why won’t anybody help????? Will it take my mother’s life to get someone, anyone to listen to her fears? Unfortunately, this child’s two younger siblings demonstrate the same violent tendencies, with his younger sister telling my mother this morning that she would not be happy until three other children in the home were dead. Please help……."

Truly, I'll post this letter on my bathroom mirror to read and reread when I feel misunderstood and wanting to have a dumb ole pity party.

Recovering

I had my elbow injury seen to by a doctor, validated and written down. I have called EVERYONE I know who could possibly help us out, I calmed down my grown children who are extremely upset including Daniel's angry offer to come punch him in the face. Nah, I don't want Daniel arrested, but my children also don't want to see me hurt. Yolie had anxiety attacks all night while neither Monica nor Sarah got much sleep.

Pepe got 10-13d to a psych ward. That bought me some time but I need to keep searching for help. I have Plans B, C and D in the works.

His younger siblings, Jonathan and Paloma, refused to go to school so I reported their defiance to a school social worker. They threatened several of us with bodily harm but have since cooled off. Big Jose stayed home from work, nervous and shocked at the way I've been treated, hovering and helping. Pepe's two other siblings, Javy and Chuy, are firmly on the side of me doing anything that needs to be done.

I appreciate all y'all's comments, support and prayers. Your comments are speaking to everyone here as so many of us share these same trials and travails. Many of you and your experiences have been on my mind today as I've tried to work through all this.

My adoption worker told me that Mother Theresa one said something to the effect, "God doesn't expect me to be successful, he expects me to be faithful," and that is ringing in my ears.

As the deputies left last night the quieter one who hadn't irked me told me that he admired what I was doing but that he wouldn't want to be me. Sometimes I don't want to be me either but I also sure would not want his job.

I have a list of folks to deal with tomorrow when I'm calmer and not twitching so much. I REALLY do appreciate all of your prayers, y'all have sustained me mightily, heck I'm nearly sniveling right now in appreciation to you other mothers, teachers, and readers.

Right now I have three teams to take to soccer practice...

Planet Hell

After re-directing Pepe's behavior all day, explaining that hitting someone, retaliating for imagined slights in any way constitutes an assault - this after he pushed Nando roughly and made him cry.

Next thing I knew Tony was screaming that Pepe was beating up Scotty, I ran down the long hall and pushed Pepe away, he slung and slugged me so hard that my bones hitting the wall had Fabian by my side in a heartbeat, Mayra ran to call the police while Pepe yelled, "watch out Bitch or else."

Ten days ago released from a mental hospital, "He's not demonstrating the behaviors you described," they told me while also informing me that they'd had to restrain him, stop him from physically assaulting others, and sedate him when their entire unit staff could not control him.

Three police cars arrive, I'm crying and have an egg sized lump on my elbow, but Jose is calmly unemotional since humans matter so little to him...so I look mean, disheveled and angry, irrational even while two of my sons-in-law come tearing up the driveway in alarm, having seen the police cars pass them while they were working on Chuck's new house.

Chuck and Dewayne stood in amazement, two black men seeing a white lady get totally dismissed by the white deputies. I'm insisting that they press charges, they believe this guy with zero impulse control and mental health issues, that he felt justified in hurting me because I was trying to stop him from hitting Scotty.

Trying to use Family Intervention 101 on me. OK I'm the nut case, one even said, "You chose this," and then I got really upset and icily thanked them for coming, "Just forget it. When he succeeds in killing me it's on you."

I was flaming.

"No, it's on you," he replied and I thought Chuck was gonna lose it. He's an ALWAYS calm man, never ruffled, stuff rolls off him, but he was nearly apoplectic at the moment.

The deputies bought it, they thought Pepe was just misunderstood. I'm physically injured, there are marks on me for God's sake.

What Pepe heard in his jumbled-up mind was that it was OK to be physically violent. This is a severely disturbed kid who fixates on stuff. I tried to explain that to the deputies but they simply didn't understand at all.

Fabian is sleeping in front of Pepe's door, just in case, and I hid all the knives.

I hope my survivors sue the hell out of everyone that has disbelieved me over the years.

Getting a Grip Again and again

I had me an unusual day of utter resentment yesterday. Paula had written an wonderful post that all adoptive parents should read and consider deeply, but Claudia's post said it all for me at the moment.

I'd been working hard in The Big Back Garden, first I was perturbed at a seed company that waited until mid-March to send what I needed to plant in January. As I dug with a shovel, ripping out rhizomes of quack grass I allowed other issues to fester within me. My negative feelings swelled inside of me and I literally had a one woman pity party as I dug. Yolie called my cell phone to tell me to take heed of tornado warnings all around us and I snapped, "I don't care, I hope it takes me."

I cried because Sarah's baby, Bailey, had passed away. That would have been someone who adored me in stark contrast to the hate and anger that's poured upon me too often. How is that fair?

Trying to link that day - January 23, 2006, I went through my January archives wondering how I've managed to even make a complete sentence anymore. Life has been kinda tough on us.

Fabian came out to check on me and I was in tears, really deeply irked at many things going on that I tend to keep to myself until everything is untangled. A 'for example' involves my son who is mad at me because he got two DUIs in the past six months. Mad at ME. Someone who hates alcohol and told him to go get an apartment rather than using the money he saved by living with me on alcohol.

To find me with a tear streaked face is unusual and Fabian was alarmed, responding appropriately by running to clean his pigsty room.

I can live with the no gratitude aspect of all this, but it gets a bit much when the anger at their own behavior is taken out on me.

Jonathan has been awful lately, oppositional and hateful. Pepe snapped last night after Jonathan tried to physically fight with Paloma, his birth sister, who wouldn't rise to the occasion and get sucked into his rude and maladaptive morass. Pepe slung Jonathan across the kitchen while Carolina and I jumped in to intervene. I got Pepe cooled off, "It's not worth it son, explain your DBT to me again," which he did while telling me he thinks Jonathan's gonna end up in jail.

No kidding?

Monica was aggravated at the laziness around here hollering that Mama does all the work and y'all can't even pick up your own dirty clothes? I told her it wasn't worth the effort to enforce decent behavior. I was emotionally sinking fast.

Why don't I just let it be? Let them sink to the pits of the lowest possible human behavior? Why don't I save myself the terrible stress on my emotions and my body and just let them grow up like animals? I have to clean it all up anyway and in spite of my one thousand percent efforts, they still want to get arrested for obvious law breaking behaviors? They fight me viciously on every aspect of decency. Why don't I just let them grow up and do what they want to do even if it means they'll lie, cheat, steal and destroy everything and everyone around them?

Because then I wouldn't be parenting and if all my parenting still amounts to nothing at least I will know that I have given it more than my ALL. If they choose to rebel against morals, standards and values then it's on them, not me.

I held Estrella until my blood pressure receded, watching the local news until our county went under a tornado warning, funnel clouds in our area, so about 40-50 of us went into Grandma's basement for an hour until that storm passed as did my inner one.

Shockingly, Chuy called me from Winterfest and admitted that he missed me. Whoa, progress is evident from Mr. Standoffish? A local deputy's daughter had a slumber party and Mayra was invited...you want one of us in your house? After you've had to be in my house when children have wanted to "F#&* this family up?" Even his wife had stopped me on the ballfield to remind me of the party.

My PTSD gets more obvious each day. War wounds that can't be seen with the naked eye, battle scars inside my brain. The kids all came to me years ago seething with anger and resentment, trusting no one, crying and depressed...now I have to fight it out of me daily.

I'm glad it is Sunday and we'll be heading to church soon. Lord knows I need it.

That's my arm around Anya's mother who has her back to the camera. Anya's college photography class is netting me some very cool pictures.

Big Jose's searchlight didn't help us find Marcela's keys last night in the yard while a possible tornado hit downtown Atlanta. Lightening flashes drove us all indoors and this morning we cancelled our yard sale plans as there's a tornado warning the next county over. The Atlanta news station mentioned our small community as now being directly in the path of a severe thunderstorm. I'm a frustrated meteorologist, a deoted weather aficionado, 200 strawberry plants sitting on the kitchen counter that I need to plant this morning.

I was digging and thinking all day yesterday, kind of frustrated with different kids of mine, hoping I'd never given the false impression that it was hunky dory around here. There are times when my grown children are so shockingly hateful to me, as if they can ease their own inner pain by heaping it upon me so much so that I have to work very hard internally to defuse my own resentments.

I hold off blogging as I need to be careful about voicing how I really feel at the moment. Better to let time cool me off and pass by before I blurt it out.

Winterfest

If you are over 14 but under age 18, you're on the U18 league which causes consternation amongst my children who wailed, "But all the white people are so tall," while I reassured them that they were fast, strong and capable of going against tall folks.

We got through the U14 and U18 tryouts last night only to come back home and, after pigging out on boxes of cereal before bed and after a large supper, Mayra and Sabrina jumped on their bed, Mayra's sharp knee hitting Sabrina hard in the eye. When she lifted her hand off her eye to show me I nearly fainted. It looked like a purple baseball so I called Grandma, Grandpa, Monica and Carolina to come babysit while Fabian and I ran her to the emergency room.

My heart was pounding and I was literally fearing emergency eye surgery. Mayra was scared at home and Tabby cried out after us, "Please take care of Memaw," wide-eyed and trembling. Memaw is her everything.

We had a Hispanic doctor who nearly giggled at us. "If this were a Rocky movie, we'd just slit it and send her back in the game," he smirked. "She'll be fine."

Being so medically challenged I gagged at the thought.

She was given a black eye patch and this morning she put a hook fashioned from a clothes hanger in her sleeve,"I'm a pirate," she declared before leaving for Winterfest in Knoxville, TN with Chuy, Martin and CW.

That's our third eye injury this week as Miriam popped Edgar and JoJo got slammed on the soccer field tryouts with a ball.

Move Along

Carolina's family picture was taken on Sunday after Monica and Dewayne's baby dedication of Alana.

I'm a little bored with my trip down memory lane as my focus needs to be so strong on each day's challenges and my memory stinks. Before Edgar's group came Tony, Teresa, Martin and Joey yet I'd forgotten that order which is weird as they're a tough group also. Teresa is still not living with us due to her severe theft issues. She's in a therapeutic placement and her non-attachment to us is a step past normal into pathological. Her "pathology" is how it was referred to in a meeting last week. We are nothing to her.

That's odd to find in a sibling group as usually they've at least bonded to each other, but this particular group had been separated in foster care and her birth mom had lived with a registered sex offender which can translate into some very dissociative survival mechanisms. Teresa is a very smart girl but combine brains with her level of trauma and what's left equals manipulation, deceit and cunningly devious choices.

Her two younger brothers have no remembrances of their life before us.

Tony was diagnosed with a slight touch of Cerebral Palsy that appears more pronounced now as others in his age group mature before his eyes. Developmentally delayed and seemingly emotionally stunted at the toddler stage who cries at the drop of a hat in response to anger, disappointment or wanting another dessert, I have my hands full maintaining his emotions.

He was placed by age on the U14 soccer team and Jack, U8, is nearly his height. I applaud Tony for hanging in there in soccer and defensively when he concentrates, he can get the job done.

I've always wondered why I never seem to have enough spinach, lettuce or arugula until it finally dawned on the one who moves too fast through life to properly contemplate, if you eat two buckets of it at a time rather than use a few leaves like normal folks, it ain't gonna go as far. I cut the arugula down to the ground yesterday and stuffed myself.

Because I was so impatient waiting on the seed potatoes to arrive, I'd bought a local sack and planted 100' in The Big Back Garden of Kennebecs. Finally my Seeds of Change order arrived with two more varieties that I am now late in planting but I think we're gonna have us some spuds this year. Maybe that'll be enough? Potatoes are cheap enough at the grocery store but the flavor factor in homegrowns is heavenly plus mine are organic.

Jonathan's agenda book noted an incomplete assignment which means a loss of computer privileges here. In his mind that means, Mom made me lose computer over nothing. I'm not going to school.

OK son, I'm not going to play into your drama, this means you're likely not going into fifth grade but rather will be a fourth grader once again until you learn to do it correctly. The cause and effect behavioral moments mean nothing to him and he's stewing in his own juices in his room. Plan B for him will predictably involve trashing his own room until he moves on to Plan C which involves not participating in his therapy seesion today with Dr. Mandy. Logic remains elusive, not available in thought processes of traumatized children.

Pepe, less than a week out of his own stay in a residential psychiatric facility, tried reasoning with his birth brother Jonathan to no avail. "Don't let him make you mad," I advised Pepe who was despairing over what he perceived to be abject stupidity. "Shake it off and go on to school." Shaking his head, Pepe went to school.

From his DBT he'd learned to unclench his fists and literally shake the tension of out of his body by flinging his hands around. Interesting theories that seem to work with him.

Adopting A Sib Group of Seven Demandos

Growling at me because he'd parked up my van's tail pipe and I made him get up at seven to move his car, Mi Guapito, who'd spent the night, sent JoJo into tailspins of happiness. "Will Edgar be there when I get home from school" he asked anxiously at breakfast.

"Nope, people have jobs," I told him, glad that it was indeed a fact, having survived lengthy weeks of job searching at times by my grown children. Or rather it was me pushing them off the sofa demanding that they be self-supporting as they launched themselves unceremoniously and oh-so reluctantly into semi-adulthood.

But look at their role model...a 53 year old silly goofball who giggles about gassy moments and tells jokes at dinner.

JoJo took a soccer ball to the face last night, we had to ice it up but likely he's gonna have a shiner. "What happened to your eye?" I suspiciously had asked Edgar only to find out that Miriam had punched him the other day. Miriam, sweet and beautiful, who only spoke to me in Spanish yesterday for some reason claimed it was an accident.

When Jack was a month old baby, Edgar and his six younger siblings came for a visit, a U-haul backed up to my house a month later unloading their stuff and then I had 29 children. They were from south Georgia and their caseworkers adored them, describing them as an easy and good group of children.

I don't even feel up to recounting the many tribulations we've since overcome, this was by far the most emotionally demanding and needy group I'd ever parented. Ever. Now they are almost 21, almost 19, 17, 16, 14, 12 and almost 11. very physical children, all excellent athletes, yet emotionally and exponentially insecure and given over to group oxygen sucking leaving me gasping for fresh air, running outside to work knowing they're lazy and won't follow me. They are also very loving and affectionate, very attached to each other and to me, and still as needy and demanding as they've ever been. Maybe even more so now since they don't test me but rather know that it is their God-given right to expect Mama to be there for them no matter what.

On my other blog Rachel made a good comment about the adoption of older children, how one group is this way and one group is that way. I've found this to be so true within our family. I have never encountered such a unique group of 39 children.

Memaw's caseworker called me yesterday telling me about a great group of older children on her caseload, mentioning they'd fit in great with our family, and for a moment I had a flash of that old feeling of "I could do this," while simultaneously realizing it takes 100% flash, not a 1% niggling in my mind. That's a good feeling too, an I'm-So-Over-It moment, watching my young'uns grow up, planning trips in my mind. I've watched pre-season Braves two nights in a row now, or rather parts of the game, as no one allows my attention off of them for any reason. But someday that'll be me sitting in the stands on Orlando during Spring Training spitting sunflower seeds everywhere, acting like a fool from Georgia.

Pepe had a great first day back at school, doing homework all evening and asking to take a shower. Hygiene is always a control issue around here and for him to volunteer to do so surprised me and made me suspicious.

Chuy'd had a lung infection. I took him to the pediatrician yesterday between several other appointments, now he's on an inhaler for the week. The doctor had told him he could miss a couple of days of school but true to nerd form he resisted the opportunity.