Lighthouse Views

Trying to explore, and to probe within my children's collective anxiety level is baffling at best. An almost 15 year old son of mine had balked at leaving for the beach last week, nearly shutting down the planned trip. Several of them found immediate refuge in sleep as soon as my van hit the highway, shutting down completely, and some simply go with the flow, eager for an adventure, knowing it wouldn't involve any sort of shopping for recreation with Big Mama.

If my own siblings and I had been wrenched away from our parents, I know we'd have hated the next folks who tried to parent us. It doesn't matter that conversely my children's parents would not follow through on case plans, were incarcerated, were emotionally unstable or major league party animals - children love their parents, good or bad. I think we need to rethink parental terminations as a society, some children never recover.

I've tried many times to put myself in my children's shoes, to imagine their intense fear and soul-numbing shock, to comprehend their murderously horrific trauma. I was always their last placement, often after disrupted adoptions, shelter stays, multiple foster homes, RTCs, and failed attempts at reunification.

Most of my children here at home with me have almost zero memories of their birth parents, the residual fear and dread still prevails though, threading through their life, and still damaging many aspects of their everyday existence.

The oppositional defiant disorder is a difficult behavior for a parent to endure, the intense stress it provokes is shockingly high and unrelenting. Disengaging from a potential argument over every possible word or phrase is my only option, as the arguing person never even hears what I say, much less attends to it.

I say all this to point out the difficulties of vacationing with issue-laden children. It is much much easier now, than in the preceding years, when everyone's physical safety was in jeopardy each day from a couple of very disturbed children, who are now either grown or unable to live with us due to events, criminal charges, or other unbloggable situations.

Tony was a huge help all vacation, as was Sabrina and Mayra. We can't just irresponsibly whip out the charge card and dine in restaurants, although I did go out for take-out pizzas one night ($125) and Subway on the road ($82.16), illustrating our need to eat at home 99.99% of our usual life.

I'd already paid the very nominal rental fee, I allotted X number of dollars for the rest, via debit card, did not carry one penny of cash, nor any credit cards with me and can end this month fiscally without owing anyone anything. Our trip home included two stops for two cases of 24 water bottles, we were all so dehydrated from the heat and our nonstop exertions.

Of course I've still not bought the flooring for Jack's room, nor any back-to-school shoes or supplies, factoring all that into the August budget, but dang if I didn't get July done properly.

My retirement check hits the bank at midnight tonight, the van is full of gas, and we have groceries, so all is well.

Jack is fascinated with historical events, wanting dearly to go to the Tybee Island Lighthouse and Museum. We got group rates because I'd called and asked, just as I'd argued the pizza man down from his original pizza price, "But honey, I'm gonna buy 10 large pizzas, can't you do better than that?" And he did.

Sandwiches and cereal were staples for us, and what July could be commemorated without Sarah's creme de menthe brownies that she's toyed with until perfection has been achieved with darker dark chocolate involved?

There were 178 narrow steps to climb at the Lighthouse, and an even narrower metal ledge outside the top of the lighthouse that nearly made me swoon with unexpected height-induced phobias, but it was all extremely interesting, and I'll post pictures at the bottom of this post, not just to bore my readers, but because Jack wants me to entrench them here in posterity. We were all bathed in sweat, a long climb up in 99 degree weather, but to me, y'all, this is fun. Lily stopped halfway up, we could see down as we climbed and it was disorienting.

Ray was equally as enthralled, Hazel pitched a fit over the boring-to-her 13 minute video we all watched in the Lighthouse Keeper's cottage, a thunderstorm blew up, and I fell crazy in love with this island.

Chuy, CW and Martin are excellent travelers, mature and helpful, and they took off with crab nets, boogie boards and floats. All three are responsible and emotionally stable, best friends, exploring the island with a natural curiosity. JoJo was hilariously annoying as usual, Allen sulked, Jonathan and Scotty held it together right decently, while Tabby and Nando had a complete blast.

When we'd gone to a more crowded public beach on the other end of the island, JoJo shook his butt, dancing ridiculously every time pretty girls walked by him, looking like a demented ape, acting socially challenged the rest of the time, making a scene, falling down cartoonishly, and tripping and pushing the other boys. He is irrepressible with no sense of embarrassment other than that which he can cause for me.

"I'm gonna live with you until I'm 40!" he hollered for all the world to witness, "So I can vacation with you more."

Seriously? I don't think so, I didn't reply.

They'd all have chosen Myrtle Beach as a destination, but Grandma and Grandpa are ridding themselves of condos in this downturn market, and I prefer quieter beaches anyway, less commercialism and more nature appeals to me. Indeed, a deer jumped out of the swamp in front of some startled children of mine, and coming out of the swampy woods onto the point where the river meets the ocean, we saw dolphins cavorting. Could it have gotten any better?

The tropical vegetation at Tybee, and the slower pace of everything, infinitely called out to me. With Sarah babysitting those who were less inclined to traipse after me, my long legs propel me quickly at an impressive speed that I can keep up for long periods of time, I took off one evening with seven kids exploring on foot, and delighted with all I found, coming in only as darkness fell.

The next night however, Ray was not about to be left behind from Bita's rambling walks, also wanting to watch the sun set towards Savannah. Ray held up marvelously the entire trip, hanging with older children, proving he too had learned to swim extremely well in Bita's pool.

No Drama On This Beach

We'd left earlier in the week. I'd found a lady wanting to rent out the remainder of July for a very reasonable fee, super cheap and it was a very nice place on the north end of the island.

I thought I'd never been there before, until I got there and remembered a date I'd been on from Savannah - another long story - and we'd gone to a restaurant there years ago on the island.

Only three miles long, fairly un-touristy, and I liked it a lot, especially since it was only five hours from my house.

We'd spent most of our time on the more desolate end, but also checked out the other beaches, and nowadays my life's so much easier with kids who are all excellent swimmers. One year at Pawley's Island I'd had 17 children under age 11 and I was on High Alert every single second of that year.

This year I'd allowed my teenage boys a great deal of freedom and they'd been very responsible.

I inhaled the wonderful salt air deeply while walking and wading around, thinking and planning.

We're already back home, I'd prewritten blogs because it doesn't pay for me to advertise being out of town, I've learned the hard way 'bout that.

Time Spent at Tybee Island

July Tomatoes

A quiet day in regards to the Back to School countdown, now there's a blessing. I suppose if no one thinks about it, it might not exist? Their minds motor differently due to wiring challenges.

A long phone call from Pepe, who's doing right well where he is, and will likely go to a step down facility with more emphasis on future independent living skills, which I totally support. Paloma's next step is more uncertain still.

Literally the other day, I'd gone outside three separate times in one ten hour period, to pick bucket loads of ripening tomatoes, knowing I simply don't have time to drag out the canner. I could be wrong, sure have been there before, but freezing them whole, is fast and effective. Taking the peels off is a dumb aesthetic move for someone like me, the best anti-oxidant phytochemicals are located in the peel's membrane, why would I remove what I need for optimal health?

I truly don't get sick, and I hold up fairly decently, loudly certainly, under horrific stress events, and attribute much of it to fantastic nutritional emphasis. My high-octane food system fueling the massive energy demands at its best.

Just six more days and then 7:30-3:00 each day will be mine all mine. Obviously taken up and dominated by chores and other demands on my time, but I need the quiet days in which to gather my thoughts, regenerate my banged up self, and absorb the peace I need to forge on ahead.

The Weather Channel predicts August will be a very hot one, July has been stifling, but I'll just guzzle more water and keep on sweating, knowing I'd rather be hot than cold anyway.

Summer Quickly Passing

The stated spread of my 1930 New Dawn antique rose was some 30 by 30 feet which didn't factor in compost, manure, coffee grinds and a wood chip mulch which sent hundreds of canes arching 30-50 feet each, with billions of fragrant blooms every summer, finally closing the entire gap between the garden shed and the house.

CW and Martin worked all day, cutting it down, some ten years after the fact, to a stump that'll soon send out new canes, but marking the first pruning event in over a decade.

It took nearly all day and while they labored at it, I made cucumber pickles, more fire hot pepper sauce, and froze tomatoes that were ripening on the vines as quick as we could pick 'em.

A high of 98 degrees, but a real scorcher was the day Jesse was at the pool with us, 102 degrees, the pool water nearly as warm as baby pee.

I believe I've picked the last of the blueberries, eating so much, my own diaper might soon resemble Hazels' if I had one, sad to see the berries go, but this year's Moon and Stars watermelon is rivaled only by the Verona ones I planted.

Scotty had a screaming meltdown fit, most likely over next week's start of middle school for him. No kid ever comes out and say, "I'm afraid of this or that change," they prefer to rage it out for some reason. It does lessen as the years pass by.

JoJo tackled him down, Scotty screamed and flailed about, knowing if he went limp and quiet then JoJo would let go of him, but preferring to know that someone else would contain his fury. Eventually they were laughing and I was able to return to the pickles who just minutes sooner were in mortal danger from the upcoming sixth grader who was swinging his fists.

Last week Nando's swum into the side of the pool inexplicably leaving an abrasion the exact size of a quarter, which would've been OK had he not picked at it so often. Somehow his older birth sister, Sabrina, had bumped the underside of her chin on the diving board, leaving a similar mark which prompted all sorts of comments this week.

And for some unknown reason Nando brought inside a dozen snake eggs he'd unearthed. Don't snakes do this in the Springtime?

Skinnier Veggies

Hotter than blue blazes lately, one literally melts outside, and eventually a soaking wet t-shirt seems to weigh too heavily on the worker to continue laboring under such smothering blankets of heat. I waited until after supper, hoping the gathering clouds would cool the air, the thunder then kept me indoors, which is fine by me, if it would've rained like it did all over north Georgia except it didn't do so in my end of the county.

Some Georgia areas received over five inches, while we got not a dern drop.

So I shelled pink-eye peas, thinking I'd get 'em put up and frozen for winter, went upstairs to water houseplants, and burned the dang peas.

Oh brother.

A toilet then overflowed, two kids got in a pushing match, a teenager had a babylike rage, and tempers flared everywhere.

A Sargent with the sheriff's office woke me up by phone at 2:30 in the morning to tell me, since I was the victim, that the sentenced one had been transferred from county to prison, information I was glad to hear, no matter the hour, but my heart was thudding from the fear that comes from a call in the middle of the night, and I had a tough time shaking it off.

Then I heard the mouse rustling around.

Mr. Meltdown all weekend actually talked with Dr. Mandy, a praise God moment, he'd been asking me about wanting to start to take meds for his lack of focus abilities, wheels are in motion, and I'm still waiting for the apology he owes me.

The riding mower is broken down again, needs the belt to be put back on, along with a gear, so if all of the older boys will take a turn, the push mower's gonna get a marathon workout.

I did find the article that studied vegetarians not gaining the same amount of weight as meat eaters, even factoring in equal lifestyles, and I gotta say, I'm a fairly good illustration of that fact. Even at my heaviest weights ever, I've hardly gotten to 135 in my entire life, other than the 152 I hit before delivering Sarah. And while I'm bragging, look what vegetarianism does to one's energy level.

Being a vegetarian is easy for me though, as I'm convinced that meat looks and smells nasty. I was brought up mainly on fruits and vegetables my entire life. As a child, meat was expensive and not ever a focal point in our home, thus giving me a healthy head start.

And how disturbing is this?

Sometimes An Automaton

I don't think I even wanna rehash yesterday's uber-stress. I'd made a great deal of arrangements to handle something for someone who then inexplicably and rudely melted down for hours, me knowing this wasn't the issue at all anyway.

It's just so wearying, this dumping out upon a person, pent up years of fury and rejection, that will likely emotionally waylay the person for life if that person doesn't soon get a grip.

It ruined our entire day, this having to stop everything to manage the negative emotions of one who's larger, stronger and completely irrational. I don't fear he'll hurt me, I fear he'll eventually have so few coping skills that he'll be unable to function normally out in the world.

And then all the little things that bother me are amplified, the way I'm the only one ever attempting to make this work out for everyone, who'd sabotage everything, just because they can.

Because I'm emotionally very strong, folks just assume that I can take everything they dish out to me, never any consideration about me at all, no appreciation for what all I do, just the expectation that I will do it, because I do do it.

Finally the house calmed down enough for me to try and go to sleep, emotional fires subdued a bit, and dang if I didn't see a mouse run across my bedroom. I wasn't in the mood to do battle, I got Chuy and Martin to chase it all over, but I have so many houseplants that there's only a billion places for it to hide.

I banged on Lily's door to awaken her, to get Shadow the wild terrier, who was shocked when I drug him upstairs where he's not ever allowed, and he clattered about my room all night long, so I'm sorely lacking a good night's sleep, and have about a thousand things to do, so if all I'm gonna do here is gripe and complain, I think I'll just go get started on all my chores instead, funnel my energies appropriately, fueling me for all that needs to be done.

I'm an automaton sometimes.

Green Beans With Onion Vinaigrette

Sarah blogged about green beans and an onion vinaigrette, while I spent the entire afternoon managing shockingly dark, angry moods around here.

It just came out the blue...or should I have seen it coming? School's fixing to start, the party with Jesse is over, and oftentimes after a particularly rousing church service, the devil tries to kick our butts bigtime.

I have shoe prints on my rear end. I managed to stay calm throughout it all, but am very weary of it all.

A rewarding text from Jesse when he and his family finally made it home to New York.

Indoor Balloon Baseball

Joe and Jesse became brothers here some 16 years ago, then ages 11 and 12, their sibling groups melded together under one roof, we went through tons of issues, but none nearly as serious as what I'd later face in the adoption world. While Jesse's own scattered, troubled sibling group has disappointed him in so many ways, he's very bonded to all of my other children, he's very likable, affable, easy going and simply fun to be around.

Although Lena and Jesse's visit was limited to less than 48 hours, many of my older children came by, bringing their children along, and as he left, leaving me sniffling, sad that the visit was so short, he told us all they'd be trying to return for Thanksgiving.

Nando put his head in his arms and cried at the kitchen table, surprising Jesse, who'd tried to comfort him. I know that Jesse and Lena are happy in a small town in New York near her parents, I get it, but it doesn't make me miss them any less.

Lena's become a vegetarian, which just cracks me up in regards to Jesse, who likely thought the next woman in his life, after his own vegetarian mama here, would share in his love for grilling meats.

Lena and I'd talked about a recent study that had fascinated us both, taking in equal calories and an equal activity level, yet one group was a vegetarian group, and as a whole the meat eaters still weighed more. I was more impressed though with the results of this particular study that looked at significantly reduced antibiotic and chemical levels in vegetarians.

Again, no drama, an easy Saturday. The first half filled with extended family, an indoor game of bat the balloon, and the second half had me dragging in buckets of tomatoes, peppers, shell peas and cucumbers. Yesterday, just like any other ornery three year old, I stuffed myself with blueberries til my tummy ached, never learning apparently, always nearly greedy with the delicious berries.

It's super duper hot, even I stayed indoors mid-afternoon, AC barely making a difference, other than to annoy me with the shut-in feeling of inhaling canned air, and the literal sound of my power bill spiking hysterically.

We get an environmental channel that I've grown to love, watching fascinating shows late into the night, caught up on the lives of the Fabulous Beekman Boys, but put off a little by the unnecessary drama that tv production crews wanna stir up. The scenery is fantabulous, their barn is to die for, and I'm crazy in love with their house.

Finding that one of them had written a book, The Bucolic Plague: How Two Manhattanites Became Gentlemen Farmers, I located it from a used book seller, and am now very happily ensconced in this man's witty repartee. An ad executive during the week, farming and preserving food on weekends, nearly four hours north of the city, made me appreciate living where I work. Any commute farther than having to cut through the meadow for my upper gardens would just be the tipping point for me.

Not this school year, but next, I'll have nine children in high school, starting my own countdown to childlessness at home, and an ability to travel or just fart around with few responsibilities, this upcoming school year marks the first time since I started kindergarten in 1959, that I've not had to go out the door, headed towards a school, for 51 years.

First I was the student, k-12, then college, grad schools, 25 years spent working in the public school system, followed by 8 years of driving my own children to school, but no more. Yolie will drive Tabby, Nando and Jack, along with her CJ, to the elementary school, my older children will all ride the bus, while I remain happily at home in my pjs. 51 years of jumping up and headed out the door, 51 years of it. Now I appear to be free of that one singular responsibility chore.

We're not in a drought at all, thank goodness, just too much overall dryness and lack of adequate rainfall is stressing out some plants, but the wood chip mulch keeps their roots cooler and decently moist, preventing rapid evaporation. Organically amended soil is a big help, but my newer beds in the upper gardens could and would greatly benefit from a cover crop this fall of hairy vetch. Not driving to school, even the nicely short distances that I've had to do, adds a whole new element to my school day free time, more I can accomplish, less stress yet again.

Or I could just plan to sit and eat granola calmly and read some good books.

"Why do you write such long blog posts?" both Joe and Jesse asked me. Oh my goodness, not writing longer ones has been my challenge lately.