Time In, Time-Out, Time Magazine

Collecting my parents mail while they're out of town, I sat down to read their Time Magazine issue and came across yet another article about adopting older kids from foster care.

It perfectly described many of the reasons that adoptive parents quit, a fact Claudia bemoaned yesterday. We talked on our cell phones late last night about the difficulties involved, and how it sometimes seems so pointless and discouraging. I have the advantage of being older, and having survived some horrible teen years with my kids. I want to share those times, if only to encourage other adoptive parents to hang in there, yet I don't want to obsess over those years, they're done and over with, my kids don't necessarily want to be reminded of how trying they were then, they are totally different people now...suffice it to say I would not have continued adopting if in reality it were pointless.

Adopting sib groups, children from the foster care system, older kids, and kids with issues has been wall to wall work, it has been strenuous and exhausting, frightening at times, sometimes despairing, but ultimately undoubtedly challenging and rewarding.

Knowing what I know now, and at what personal cost would be involved for decades, what I do this again? Duh, of course I would.

Last night watching the soccer games, I was impressed my ownself with how far the kids have come.

I have allowed Scotty and Jonathan, both 8, to start playing now, and both played hard and well yesterday, learning the techniques at camp, and showing a great deal of natural ability.

Both boys are emotionally high-maintenance, disobedient way too often, and in need of a great deal of structure, supervision and redirection at all times.

In the Time Magazine article, it discussed 'time in' instead of 'time-out," a restriction we often employ. Time-in is where the offender has to be with the parent at all times, shadowing, trailing and hanging out where the parent is, rather than isolated in time-out. I use this technique sometimes, especially with Tony, but we call it the umbilical cord therapy where the child obviously needs some attachment time since the umbilical cord, in reality, unfortunately never connected us at birth. Annoying to the parent, yet beneficial to the child...the price we gotta pay sometimes.

Thursday night on Primetime will be a special on foster care. I often watch, or read, stuff like that as I find it motivating, it revs up my own engine and strengthens me each time. Sometimes I am appalled at the sugar coating it is given, sometimes the gritty reality is very well portrayed, but until you have lived in this kind of atmosphere, it is extremely onerous to adequately portray the grinding details of one's existence when everyone's emotions are so frayed and damaged. Where tempers flare and are easily ignited by the raw nerve endings that are exposed and ugly. But then that can be contrasted by sweet evenings when everyone is loving, generous, and even accommodating. Last night was sweet here, after the ballgames and Edgar's little hissy fit over losing his, plus I couldn't get there from soccer on time, we'd settled down to watch a silly video that Jeremy'd brought over to share, and bowls of cereal, ice cream and yogurt to go around. It seems we are just about the eatingest house I've ever seen, two dishwashers that seem to constantly be full, two stoves cooking and five refrigerators emptying faster than I can refill them, life with big-eating boys and I'm no slacker lately, putting on the pounds I'd lost due to stress last month, feeling strong, full and healthy...raring to go.

Books

Grown kids in and out, touching base with the family, and constantly entertaining me...Sergi, Yolie, Cristy and Sarah with Sonny in the back on this very hot afternoon

A fast blog entry...just got off the phone with Amy, a pre-adoptive mom, and an idea came to me...would people email me, or comment here, on their favorite adoption books? There's so much to learn in the adoption world. So much to be prepared for, although I doubt anyone is ever fully ready for the storm that's a coming. Probably my all time old favorite that best prepared me was Adopting the Older Child by Claudia Jewett, published in 1979 just when I needed it.



Please let me know the books that have helped others to cope.

Another Neat-O Adoptive Family

This is a local family that I had the pleasure of meeting last summer, finalizing on their most recent children.

Soccer Camp Participants

I see that Claudia put a more recent picture of me right here...sucks that I'm gonna soon have to say FIFTY TWO year old Mama.

Make Me

A typical exchange:

Joey to Edgar, "Boy, give me back my sunglasses."

Edgar pugnaciously and predictably replies, "Come try and take 'em from me."

Joey, not thinking as usual, foolishly tries to tackle Edgar down.

Having a 50 pound weight advantage over him, Joey can often initially seem to put up a fight, yet Edgar is very, very strong from weight lifting.

Two sweaty, heavy breathers, sunglasses forgotten, and not the issue anyway, roll all over the floor, fall on furnitures, and scatter kids who didn't get out of the way in time.

This goes on 15-20 minutes or so, neither guy mad at the other, no punches thrown, and Edgar always win while other large kids grin at the showdown.

Nine time out of ten, Fabian, Javy or someone else will then say, "Edgar, see if you can pin me." Like there's a challenge?

Edgar always obliges.

An hour later, I make them upright all the over turned furniture and/or hammer broken chairs back together...only to watch it erupt all over again later in the day.

Wonder if I can wallpaper over the excess testosterone? At least it is appropriately channeled. Usually.

Soccer Camp Week

A great deal of my garden time is spent in thought. An activity that involves so much work is often done in solitude as the kids would rather play than weed. As I was carefully creeping around several patches of poison ivy, it crossed my mind that I didn't used to have so much of that nasty stuff there before. This is my 14th year in that particular garden area, I never encountered it until recently and, worse yet, I'd never had any reaction to poison ivy until the last year or so. Was it because I'd turned 50 then? Less resistance than when I was a child running and playing in the woods? I used gloves yesterday to rip as much out as I could yet as I was trying to sleep last night I had all sorts of imaginary itching. This morning I learned more about our over abundance...

Nine year old Paloma, not pictured here with Blanca and Lily, decided that she was going to be the boss of the chicken coop. She offered to let Sabrina be co-captain as they rebuilt a chicken tractor until dark last night to keep all of Maxine's 15 black baby Houdini chicks out of the garden. "Until dark" is a specific time to us, time to go inside as there are no streetlights out here.

Edgar is still working on getting the pool open, a month later than it used to take Daniel...

Today the kids have soccer camp for the week. A high school coach runs the camp and raises money for my kids to attend, he's also purchased all their gear for them as well, and paid the fees for them to participate in rec league. This is their third or fourth year, and they are absolutely excited about it. There are scrimmage games each evening which will clash with the church league softball games this week. You'd think my two 19 year old sons, Sonny and Edgar, would understand that I need to be with the younger kids, but both will blow their lower lips out at me over this.

Saray, now a mother of three, turns 28 today...she lives an hour and a half away so it'll only be a phone call instead of getting to see her.

Yesterday, no clashes with, nor amongst, the kids. Chores got done, meals cooked, groceries bought, and I got several peaceful hours in the garden. Joey, Javy and Fabian were all fun to be with, the Bubbas didn't squabble, and we ended up the month with all the bills paid on time. Doesn't get much better than that.

I had to giggle last night as Edgar, maturely, hid in the closet and kept pushing open JoJo and Allen's closet door that they swore they'd just shut. Edgar, muffling his guffaws, heard JoJo suggest to Allen, "Dude, let's go get the Bubbas to check out that closet for us." Not Mama, Edgar nor Segi, but the Bubbas?

They slunk out of their room quietly, slithered with their backs against the wall, and scampered off to find reinforcements. Returning to their room, backed up by their peer group, Edgar fell out of the closet laughing at them. Hard to then again get them all settled down for the night but I'd so much rather the root cause be laughter than any other negative emotion.

Patience & Perspectives

It is difficult for me to feel sorry for all those po thangs having to wait. Must make for a really tough life, makes me forget all about the abused and neglected children of the world. I have a rather narrow outlook it would seem.

My ire today springs from the fact that someone here stole a can of white spray paint from the garage, that I should have known better than to store there, and painted bad words on the back of a very old tenant house on our property.

I took a picture but the words are too ugly to use here.

I have two suspects as well, for once Fabian not being one of them. Javy, so full of hate, is the number one suspect, with Joey running a very, very close second.

I reckon Javy hates me for settling his brother, Chuy, down in the gifted classes, or helping divert Jose's anger from a raging monster into a helpful 6th grader? Maybe it is the fact that they are now not homeless on the streets without a parent that he hates me so? If looks could kill, the glare from his eyes would have incinerated me years ago.

And don't we all know that it isn't hate for me at all, but rather hate at their birth mom who it seems disloyal to despise. Therefore hate this lady who is providing for them until bio mom returns. Like that's gonna happen, and they know it's not, but why resolve it yet, when blind, misdirected anger is comforting?

Fury, chaos, fear and lack were all these five kids knew for years as they bounced between Juarez and El Paso. It is difficult for a middle class dork like me to wrap my mind around the fact that those circumstances were familiar, were what they knew intimately. Comfort, provisions, love and acceptance are all foreign concepts that I expect them to adapt to...I'm asking an awful lot of these kids. What if they do adapt, and then I yank it all away? In their world view that familiar, expected loss could happen at any minute. Four years of living here with me means nothing to Javy...this isn't like standing in line at Wal-Mart, this is the real deal, and it takes years and years and years of extreme patience and understanding on my part.

I am as impatient as they come, I am short tempered and irritable over this turn of events, as I am simply sick and tired of such destructive, ugly behavior.

When I was a wild, headstrong teenager my mother pointed out the simple fact that if I turned all that negative energy into something positive, I'd make a difference somewhere somehow. I am holding on to the school of thought and slowly attempting to apply it to my children. Their negative energy, if harnessed, could rebuild Iraq in a heartbeat.

I think I would love to go stand somewhere in line for fifteen minutes where it is quiet and there are no nasty bathroom issues to deal with. I'll hang on the phone and listen to Musak if that would mean no one is melting down in front of me at the same time.

I cannot prove who did this vandalism. I'll wait them both out and make them sweat. Joey will cave soon if it was him but I'm fairly sure he can't spell that good. Javy will stare at me, dead-eyed with dangerous emotions, and I can read his mind, and his thoughts, that are composed of something like who gives a s*hit about this old b*tch of a woman? Then he may even illustrate his burning emotions with smeared feces on my hall wall...graphic 3-D pictures of the turmoil in his mind.

For decades past I kept adopting children, and going through this process over and over, learning more each time, but always at a huge emotional price to me. Now, with no new children joining our family, I see an end in sight to this particular routine, and that helps me get through it once again...and again and again. One day I will wake up, kids will be grown, and the silence of windows not breaking will probably shatter the severe post traumatic stress syndrome mentality that I have caught from the children.

Dr. G faces a very busy summer unearthing the depths of Javy's pain.

In the meantime, ABC News is reporting a death toll of 5,000 in an Indonesian earthquake, and I feel guilty for complaining about painted words on a wall. My kids are physically healthy and alive, we have food, shelter, hope and unlimited options for our future. Get a grip Cindy, it's all in one's perspective.

Wordy

Martin, probably the sweetest kid on earth is holding my blog entries for the month of May, which isn't over yet.

Wordy ain't I?

I've been toying with the idea of turning my blog entries into a book somehow, mainly due to the encouraging emails I've received.

But I have almost 12 months of piles like the one Martin is holding...editing doesn't appeal to me.

A lady stopped me after church to tell me how much her three sons enjoy Martin. I passed the compliment on to Martin, and he replied that those boys were new in church, and he just didn't want them to feel lonely. Martin does stuff like that all the time, making him so likeable.

Hoochie Mama

A friend of mine wrote this book and on Amazon.com the description reads, "Addresses the apparent lack of responsibility in which seductive clothing is worn in our modern day world. The author deals with "fashion flagrance" head-on, not in a "cram it down your throat" method, but with a whimsical sense of humor grounded in biblical truth."

She's having a book signing that I want to try and get to next week.

Sabrina had come to me before church to check with me regarding her skirt length which was fine. What mother has not fought this battle? As an employee of the school system for 25 years I was sometimes shocked at what the girls would wear to school, either their mamas didn't care, didn't see, or they'd apparently lost the battle.

We used to have a store here at our mall that I referred to as Sluts 'R Us, so sickened was I by what I'd see on the mannequins when I'd just be walking by, and that dump catered to teens. Young teens at that.

I fought this battle with Sarah, just as my mom fought it with me, but jeepers, I gotta think it was easier back then than now.

As my daughters grow up and move out they usually rebel by wearing what I wouldn't allow them to wear when they lived with me, but as they grow up and enter the business world, they start to see that the inappropriateness has no place in their lives.

Vanessa told me, but probably regrets letting the words outta her mouth, that she's glad when I make her dress right. This from a kid who has often made us late somewhere by wearing what she knew wasn't allowed. Like I'd say, "Well
that's OK, we're in a hurry." Get real, it may have been a control issue on her part, but she sure wasn't going out of the house like that.

She might have won the battle by making us late, but Big Mama won the war by making her dress right.

My daughters would want to borrow other kid's clothes, which I also wouldn't allow, as I don't want to be responsible for other people's clothes.

My girls are all so beautiful anyway, and I want them to stand out for standing up for something, not for what skin is hanging out of their clothes. They could all wear croaker sacks and still look gorgeous.

My boys can't wear gang garbage or bad words on a T shirt. They are SO much easier to dress than the girls.

$$$

My friend's niece received a Lexus car for her high school graduation present. Edgar's gonna get a used squat rack.

Daniel and I were talking about this yesterday, as most of his friends at the university have credit cards, paid for by their parents, unlimited expense accounts basically while Daniel pays for everything from his different jobs.

When I was in college I realized also that most people had way more money than I did. My parents paid my tuition and, for that, I was grateful. I find and apply for scholarships for my kids now, but there is no extra money for anything.

Maybe it is just rationalization, but I believe that I, and all my kids, are all the more stronger and better able to face adversity, due to the fact that we've all had to work so hard for everything.

While I am probably jealous, on some level, of those that have so much material wealth, truly I like the challenge of trying to make it all happen for us financially. I hope I can pass those values on to my children.

Stuff, and life, is more rewardingly fun when you've earned it.

Monkey See, Monkey Do

I still have not made any decisions about Fabian. His stuff remains at The Ranch, but as each day goes by, I am increasingly drawn toward keeping him here with us. He has become affectionate, and very responsive, to being parented by me, claiming that he needed the last six years to learn how to begin to trust me. His former aversion to chores has improved, and I credit The Ranch with that improvement, especially Shon, his then houseparent. He and his wife both had a very gentle demeanor, unlike my rip roaring antics, and it made a good, steady impression on Fabian. Maybe he learned it wasn't just the loud, demanding parents that made kids do chores, maybe it is all parents.

Fabian has spent a good bit of time charming all his siblings here, all those that he had initially alienated during his violent times, are now trusting, and enjoying, Fabian. He can be very delightful, and seeing the hatred, and the anger, ease up from his face and clenched fists is rewarding. He is now clingy, loving and demonstrative. Kinda like Edgar, yet less so in that Edgar already paved the way. Edgar was the uncertain one, the leader of the 7 kids, the one they all looked to for emotional guidance. I cannot imagine how badly this would have gone for our family if Edgar had been the awful, rebellious one. Even in his buttheadedness, he obviously loved and cared for his brothers and sisters. Tired of being the parent for 13 years, Edgar deeply wanted to trust me to do that job and allow him to be a teenager. This is why it is difficult for me to fault him in his Peter Pan phase, bless his heart.

Fabian is becoming even closer to Edgar, having watched Edgar stick by him through last year, attending all the therapy sessions...and bottom line, if Edgar trusts Mom, she must be trustworthy. Why fight it anymore?

Fabian has the emotional tools necessary to function in the world whereas Joey sometimes can only sit and stare, unable to decipher social cues and appropriate behavior. Once again sent to bed early last night, like a Bubba, for being rude to me...I cannot imagine ever having had to punish Daniel like that, not even at age 6...Daniel intuitively knew decent behavior after having an equally rough start in life.

Daniel came yesterday over to tell me all about the details now involved in his joining the Georgia Army National Guard, something I keep rolling over in my head, this being a surprising choice, to me, for Daniel to have made. Due to having finished two years in college, he's going in at a higher pay scale.

Daniel's cut a great deal with them, he'll be within 2-3 hours of home during his basic training and his job training, he'll complete college, and the benefits are admirable. If I can get Fabian to improve his test-taking skills to the point where he could pass the ASVAB, I believe this would be a good choice for him as well.

School is going to be a challenge for me, and for Fabian, for the next year or so, then, hopefully, I can have him at, or near, grade level and emotionally able to participate in regular public school. Without the constant anger companion sitting on his shoulder like the proverbial devil in commercials, he may be able to even learn something. Two years ago I had the school system administer a battery of tests which all resulted in determining this is a child of absolutely average abilities with no learning problems. Sure took away that excuse from him.

Watching Edgar graduate from high school this week has also been an impetus for Fabian to get it together academically. He knows that Allen and JoJo are looking up to him also. Our chain of command, and accountability system, are ingrained in the kids, you owe it to your sibs, if not for yourself, to make us all proud. They are looking to you for guidance.

Math seems to be Fabian's biggest issue, and he and I discussed him sacrificing his summer to concentrate on improving math skills, the payoff being he could then go back to school here in our county and play football, two positive motivators for him. He is agreeable, we'll see how it goes, I'm my usual hopeful Pollyanna self about it.

The rest of the kids felt aimless yesterday without school as their compass and their timepiece. Third day home, and every single one of them kept asking, "Is today Saturday?" By mid-morning I had finally planted our 100th tomato plant and dozens of pepper plants, Ms. Carr came by and took Tony, Lily and Sabrina with her to organize her classroom for next school year, knowing she's gonna have Jonathan they probably should have just gone ahead and bricked up the windows and padded the cell in preparation for Mr. Window Smasher. Gosh I hope I didn't say that out loud as she reads my blog.

Jonathan wanted to get in an ugly mood when the Bubbas didn't want him to go down to the front creek with them. Tired of his rages and his stubborn intractability at times, they made him stay home with Mama. Natural consequences can really suck sometimes.

Discovery Health Channel & GNG

So, Edgar, nothing changed...just like when you turned 18. Told ya so. This isn't foster care where you move out when you are "of age". This is a family where you still have so much more to learn, and to do.

Jeremy here, being a birth kid, didn't, and isn't, moving out of his family's house. Adoption is as binding as birth.

Yesterday a few disgruntled kids, realizing that they wouldn't see their teachers for ten weeks, rattled around picking squabbles with each other, Fabian rode with me to do some quick errands, like pick up the criminal background results on me so that I can adopt a 200 pound, accused felon before he turns 18 in just a couple of months. I put all the papers in a packet to mail, Joey ran the quarter mile to the mailbox only to find that the mailman had come and gone already, probably trying to avoid another 'playing with my snake' story from Joey.

Yolie came by to get Joey to go to Wal-Mart with her, and I explained to Joey that there was a mail drop-off box there, he could mail it out from town. "Does it cost?" he asked, making me realize that I had a never-ending teaching career with him.

Yolie said that Joey dropped the packet into the mailbox with a loud, "Finally!" as I've been somewhat obviously reluctant to seal this deal with him. But it's not as if I can put him in a box to Texas, marked Return to Sender, I'm attached to him, as awful as he can be, there's a lump of coal here needing to become a diamond. Lord help me please.

My stupid chickens, who had the run of the garden all winter, are pissed off to be relegated to their chicken yard, and keep escaping back to the original scratching ground, but now, with it being summer, they are destructive and scratching up seeds I've planted. Gito, Teresa, Joey and I worked until dark trying to fence the clever little buggers back in their area.

There was a TV show I'd taped about an Atlanta family with 27 either Downs or severe medical issues children. It was very well done, inspiring, and motivating. I watched it with Vanessa, Joey, Gito and Fabian, and found the parent's simple explanations for the "inane why do you do this questions" very satisfying. It boils down to a desire to do this.

I'll probably watch it again with the other kids and I recommend it to any pre-adoptive, or other interested, families. It'll air several times again.

Everybody's gotta do something with their lives I believe.

Joey, with all his emotional issues and limitations, was very moved by this story. It's funny though, that my kids watch this in amazement, and don't equate it to our lives very much. They were super impressed with these two parents, yet don't realize what I'm up against on any given day. They expect me to do what I do. Take me for granted every single day of the year...years even.

Fortunately I'd cooked 12 pounds of pinto beans, and we were just finishing getting everyone's plates on the tables when a crack of thunder sent little kids scurrying to me and the power shut off. It was still light outside so we could see just fine, but with no electricity we have no water as the pump to the well can't run. Toilets don't flush, dishes can't get washed and, worse yet, fans couldn't run and it'd been over 90 degrees. We all ate tacos while sweating and power was restored in an hour or so. Power was down all the way to Yolie's house, four miles away.

Daniel sealed the deal yesterday with the Georgia National Guard. I'm a little agitated about it, he's very, very excited, and that's what counts. Our church is honoring the military on Sunday, and Daniel won't let me send them his picture as he's still working all this out in his mind, what with college still to finish. I'm real proud of him although I totally resisted this at first. I also know that with all his intelligence, Daniel knows what he is doing.

The Original Seven

Edgar's forced smile, JoJo's head bent down, pretty much, only Miriam seems well-adjusted...

Edgar's Graduation

He did it, another graduated senior from our family, Big Mama, proud as punch, once again. That graduating class of seniors was in eighth grade when I retired from their middle school. One day, riding to school, Edgar had told me he'd always dreamed about having a teacher for a mom, parking in the teacher's parking lot, he never ran ahead of me, rather he walked with me chivalrously to the door. He'd often check on me several times each day as well. Making sure I was still there.

Nothing has changed as he still calls me, texts me, checks on me, shadows me, and hangs with me. A totally sweet and charming young man.

Deysi babysat my younger kids so that about 15 of us could go to Edgar's graduation which nowadays takes place at UGA.

Getting home around ten p.m., after Edgar's request to get a couple dozen Krispy Kreme donuts, we made a totally out of character decision, and went back out to town to eat, just Edgar, Mama and Sergi. We went to the next county, as there's nowhere in our county to eat that late, and ran into several other families with their graduating kids.

A nice night but my cell phone kept ringing, grown kids unnerved that I'd gone out so late, even accompanied by two sons. Mama being irregular, out of habit, sets everyone off. Fabian and Vanessa got in a tussle, calling me to referee. I quietly blew my top, with a mouthful of French fires, I hissed, "Y'all better not make me come home and ruin this for Edgar." It was, of course Adoption 101, Edgar's birth siblings, who were overwrought and rattled over this pivotal event.

Vanessa, however, wrote Edgar a nice congratulatory letter, I'm quoting parts without their permission, "You did it. You defeated the odds. Whoever thought that the scarred little boy getting beaten in front of us would, yet again, stand before us: not as the scarred little boy you were, but as the strong, brave, handsome, talented man that you are. I'm proud that every time you fell, you would pick yourself up, brush your knees off, and start all over. You made up your mind to trust mom, thanks for setting a good example..." She went on for a page and a half.

JoJo, the baby of their bunch, now 9, was awful last night. He misbehaved the entire two hours, aggravated Edgar to the point of little return. When I pointed out to them that JoJo was just scarred Edgar would leave us, Vanessa and Edgar said, "JoJo doesn't even know what graduation is." But he did, and he was expressing his dismay at this point in Edgar's life. If Edgar was uneasy, imagine how much so for Jojo.

Since we'd stayed out late, when I came downstairs at 7, instead of 6 in the morning, I found Edgar sprawled on the sofa where I type my blogs. "I thought you got up early, Mom, I've been waiting an hour." Can you say transparent, son?

Cuddle time unchanged, living arrangements the same, I told you so, Peter Pan. I'll still be here for you tomorrow and all your tomorrows.

Oh, please, no applause necessary...no pictures allowed. I am what I am, just a mama.

Vanessa, persistent with the camera...Big Mama looking slap wore out from the battle to help my kids succeed, oftentimes against their will. Cristy had just been over, remembering how I never gave up on her, reinforcing what I believe as a parent, but sometimes question, as it seems so uphill constantly. I still have 24 kids to get through school, better eat my Wheaties.

Energy Source

It's a given that every grandma on earth feels this way, but to have a grandbaby entering junior high, when one stills feels like a middle schooler herself, is a little odd. I met Baby Yolie's mother, Carolina, when she was in junior high and the resemblance now of her daughter at nearly the same age is remarkable.

Yolie had taken Vanessa and Joey with her to Wal-Mart today, I'd given money to them to get the usual gallons of milk, and it struck us today, how tall Jack has become, just finishing kindergarten, almost six years old.

Carolina had come by bringing me one of her newest recipes. It was a pudding cake saturated with fruit and almonds...awesomely delicious. Sometimes it seems that whatever I am eating at the moment, especially when I didn't cook it, becomes my most favorite food in the world. My enthusiasm often knows no bounds, but, quite possibly, that's the source of my energy?

Later Cristy had brought me some seafood stew, nose hair burningly spicy, I hooted and hollered in delight so much that Edgar's friend, Jeremy, wanted a taste, only to fold in half from the fire it contained. Again...my favorite food in the world.

Cristy, funky and fashionable, able to pull off all sorts of looks, resembled a Middle Eastener today, pictured with her birth brother, Sergi, we're still all simply enthralled at having Sergi home with us after four years gone in the navy. Sergi, more than anyone, has thrown himself back into family life. I think about him, what if he'd not been adopted? Who'd be there for him after the military? Where would his sisters be scattered off to? Who'd be at Edgar's graduation tonight acting like they were solely responsible for getting him through high school? I know how often it crosses my kid's minds as they often share their thoughts, opinions and feelings...now that they are older and can share instead of acting out those same troubled thoughts.

And, of course, today these Sweet William flowers in the dining room are my favorite. If I go to the kitchen, then the gardenias become my favorite. Maybe it is my ability to be so enthusiastic each morning that gives me the motivation and inspiration in all the tough parenting episodes?

This family, inspires me greatly, but this is not my particular calling. I was told, years ago, by another mother of many Downs Syndrome children, and other medical needs, that her life was so much easier than mine due to the simple fact that her kids did not act out like mine did. "But", I 'd then protested, "you have so many demands on you by kids who can't take care of themselves."

She had already raised several teens and stood her ground. I've since met many other moms like her that say the same thing. I know it boils down to simply doing as one is called to do. That is definitely the source of my energy.

I don't care if it seems like an obvious elementary cliche, there's no other explanation.

I'd awoken at 3 a.m. for no reason last night, I'd gotten up, walked through the house, seen Jeremy's car parked outside, listened to my kid's snoring, and then went back upstairs to read myself to sleep. The attic fans were on, dragging in our heavily scented air from all the honeysuckle, roses and gardenias blooming outside, replacing the stale air from so many wired kids breathing in and out, and the faint smell of urine from someone's hidden night diaper...another casualty of the adoption world. Night fears that cause older kids to still wet the bed, some kids so regularly that they need to sleep in night diapers. A 12 year old wet last night, facing middle school next year, frightened and unnerved by any change.

It was a good feeling to have gotten through another school year, Miriam will graduate next year and, hopefully, I'll guide Fabian, Vanessa, Joey and Teresa successfully through GEDs, homeschooling or any other alternative methods. The challenges motivate and inspire me as well which is a good thing as I daily face so many.

Five brothers were matched through AAN into a family out west, took nine months to get them moved, but I thought about them last night when I couldn't sleep. They're in their first week in a new, very experienced family, they're scared, excited, rebellious and confused but they've met their match in their new mom and dad, those five children have no clue how blessed they are now to be in a family. That motivates me as well, to keep matching kids into waiting families.

So it is enthusiasm, challenges, successes and failures that keep me going. It is the hugs, the kisses, the slammed doors and punched in walls that motivate me. It is the graduations, the expulsions, the arrests and the college degrees that inspire me to find other ways to keep this family going forward, to knit us together even more tightly and to support us all emotionally. This is my passion, my reason for being, and my calling. Although I am often obviously frustrated by problems and issues, the fun always outweighs the despair.

Note to Big Mama: Bookmark this post to remind, and encourage yourself, when you're butt deep in the doo doo again around here...which could occur at any given moment.

More Homework Due

Our wonderfully supportive school system extends way past elementary school, middle school and slap into high school. Gito, lazy little monkey, decided that his computer application class was merely an elective, and he didn't give a hoot if he got the work done or not. Passing? Unimportant to an ill-informed fifteen year old..

I'd looked at his PowerSchool grades, on the computer daily, and had been dogging him for failing on purpose. His teacher just called me, on the last day of school, and said he'd meet Gito at the school for the next few days in order to make Gito do his work now that school has let out.

So guess who has to go to school tomorrow all by himself?

Tough toenails, Gito.

Last Day

Fifth grade graduation this morning, Sabrina, Martin, Baby Yolie thrilled to be headed to middle school, Jose apprehensive, pensive and sad this morning. He's been at this elementary school for four years now, has been loved, taken care of, and accepted there after a bumpy foster care kid school experience in El Paso where he was actively disliked by that principal. Here in Georgia, he has made tremendous progress, has tested out two grade ahead in Math after being labeled a violent special ed student in Texas. He was very ferocious and threatening his first year here with us, angry, raging and confused over the many moves in his life, plopped down suddenly in Georgia in a loud, rambunctious family of people who understood him, who loved him, and helped him learn to, at least, act somewhat normal in public.

I was afraid Jose would cry this morning as I drove him for the last time to his school, his face bunched up and emotions tattooed all over it.

Normal kids look forward to the last day of school, my kids teeter between a tinge of anger at the teachers for deserting them, relief at being able to hang around our house, apprehension over the big unknown of the next year, and bitter, abject sadness at leaving this particular school year behind.

Miriam, a rising senior, passed all the Georgia High School Graduation Tests the first time as do most normal students, a more rare accomplishment here in our house. She also earned another patch for her letter jacket and shares none of her birth brother Edgar's Peter Pan tendencies.

This summer promises to be one of our calmer summers in that no one here is new anymore, we've weathered so many storms and held together, helping to cement everyone's desire to know that this is for real for them. I hope I'm predicting correctly.

Up on the roof

When I found all these roof pictures of our house, I hollered, "What yo-yo went all over the roof?"

The culprit took his own self-portrait, as evidenced by the last picture here.

Our house looks huge, indeed it sprawls, but there are 28 people living here, strowing their shoes, clothes and every last pair of socks we own for me to pick up. I don't think so dear young'uns.

Peter Pan, seen on the roof, searching for Neverland, kept whining today until I agreed to drive him to get the shot he needs for college. I'd been telling him to drive his own self so I could get some stuff done, but I gave in. I drew the line at holding his hand, and the nurses didn't give him a smiley sticker, thus indicating another step forward into grown up land. He returned the favor, and the companionship, by pushing the grocery cart and driving me home, pulling up to the front of Publix like I was elderly or something. Son, I can waddle out through the parking lot ok on my own. Sometimes the overly solicitous behavior slows me down too much.

But I humored him, so happy was I regarding the Match meeting where I got extra psychological help for Teresa, twice a week in-home therapy, which also allows us to move forward in exhausting local resources, then we can get the heavy-duty intensive help she'll need. Best case scenario would feature her turning her life around immediately, and that's not out of the realm of possibilities. My Pollyanna approach has paid off more often than not.

Other possibilities include getting her into a therapeutic wilderness camp that I believe would also be beneficial. She's such an intelligent child but so manipulative, dishonest, and severely sticky-fingered.

Both ladies who came here today were sharp and insightful, asking on-target questions, obviously experienced. Several years ago I'd used this agency and was appalled to hear a counselor tell Alex to please excuse her several mistakes as she was suffering from a hangover. I nearly fell off my chair. But in the long run we had with them, everyone else was very professional.

No one is crying out, acting out, more in need of therapy right now than Teresa.

Now that soccer is over, Daniel came by and dropped off a CD that he'd recorded of two games last Saturday. Like Sunday morning quaterbacks, intensive coaching sessions are exploding all over my living room, everyone has an opinion, and is seond guessing each play. Daniel, technologically gifted, has added extra features such as repetition of Sabrina's long, strong amazing kick over the goalie's head. He did a professional job and the kids are too thrilled.

Tomorrow is the last day of school, no one is being held back, no one is not being promoted...that's how we spell a g-o-o-d s-c-h-o-o-l y-e-a-r.

Ten weeks home together always helps us work on family issues, responsibilities, and adding on to their very needed layers of stability and security. I like it when they are all home, a beautiful summer spread out before us to enjoy.

Robin's Liberian Adoption

I adopted a sib group of four kids eleven years ago from this Texas county, this article caught my eye today. Foster care adoptions became my passion after my first international adoption. I just didn't have the money to continue adopting that way. But the need there continues to grow.

Yesterday, on an adoption email group, there was a post from a lady who'd just successfully adopted two beautiful little girls from Liberia. I got her permission to use their photo as I just couldn't get them off my mind. I don't want to adopt again, but I'm in contact with so many people who are still in the process, and I want to help connect as many children as I can with waiting families.

Robin from California graciously has allowed me to quote her: "I'm from Orange County, California. I'm a single parent. I already had four daughters adopted through foster care (all sisters), when I began reading about the tremendous need of children in Africa. My research led me to Liberia. Liberia was originally founded by our freed slaves. A civil war started in Liberia between the decedents of the freed slaves and some of the indigenous tribes, which lasted about 14 years. The war devastated the country of Liberia. Liberia is now without electricity, safe running water, and land phone service. Adequate medical assistance is sparse. The unemployment rate is extremely high. Many of the children are suffering from malnutrition and no medical care. After a great deal of prayer, I felt led to adopt from Liberia. I contacted West African Children's Support Network and adopted through them . I first saw a picture of my children on 2-10-06, and held them in my arms on 5-1-06 in Liberia. We returned home on 5-12-06. My children are wonderful, loving and bright. I am so blessed! While in Liberia I saw many loving children in need of homes. Liberia does not have a limitation on family size for adoption, nor do they have a maximum age limitation on the adoptive parent. Most of Liberia is Christian, and they are looking for loving Christian homes for their kids. I hope you will be able to reach some of those potential homes!"

I do too.

This Liberian program seems pretty good. I found this information, ""Of 78 low- and middle-income countries examined, Liberia had the highest newborn mortality rate, with 65 of 1,000 babies dying in a country where forced teen marriages are common and many women die during pregnancy or childbirth. Liberia was followed by Afghanistan, Sierra Leone, Iraq, Pakistan and Ivory Coast -- countries known for conflict and widespread violence against women."

Another good article regarding African adoptions is here.

Statistics like that disturb me, many years ago I was reading literature from The International Concerns Committee for Children and was horrified at the conditions I found for children then. I ended up in Honduras, during their very anti-American years where they burned down the American Embassy, for my first adoption, and was even more shocked at the poverty, the living conditions, and the mortality rates.

The rest of my adoptions were special needs sibling groups in that they were older kids, had emotional baggage (to put it mildly), varying disabilities and are minorities. I couldn't afford any more international adoptions, my parents had fronted me the money for that one, and I was drawn, called to the children that all joined our family.

But the need is so great for families and I want to continue to encourage people to adopt from the foster care system, internationally or through private adoptions. I want to see happy pictures like the one above.

I don't want to ever guilt anyone into adoptions, of course, and I'm aware and grateful for all the money that other people pour into charities that help children, poverty and hunger.

Ray's Back

Ray Ray, who I haven't seen in nearly five days because they went to the beach, walked into my house, and then turned tail on me. Wouldn't hug me, wouldn't kiss me...this after he asked for me their last day at the beach. He calls me Bita because he can't quite pronounce Abuelita yet.

Today he ran for Sarah's legs. She asked him, "Are you mad at Bita for not going to the beach with you?"

"Yes," he replied.

Well that's a new one. Mad at me for not going to the beach?

I have a houseful of kids who are mad at me for all their varying issues, non-reasons, and resentments, and this darling child chooses to be mad at me for not going to the beach. Interesting.

It only lasted a minute before I got hugs and kisses.

He's pictured here with his toilet seat on his head, Sarah claims potty training isn't going all that well.

Someone Call 911, We've Been Robbed

Edgar is graduating from high school, at age 19, in less than 48 hours and this could call for an exclamation mark except the punctuation police lady is back in town. She's as pleased as punch, and supremely proud of her brother, as am I, this has been a long, stressful haul, a battle and a half, but he's made it through in spite of himself. He's got a job offer and is starting to understand that nothing will be different, that he can stay here, and continue being mothered. I'm sure that our pushpull will continue but, right now, he's on cloud nine where I want him to be, proud of himself.

He has a 9:30 p.m. ballgame tonight, he slid into home plate last night, full of himself, happy and strutting like a rooster.

We were robbed of his childhood, and of Jesse's, and some of my other kids. Children who didn't come here until their early teens, who spent their childhood protecting siblings, and trying to tend to them. I was robbed of the opportunity to try and properly parent them, they were robbed of decent family life that should be an inalienable right of all kids.

So we gotta make up for it, we gotta overcome the negativities and the handicaps. And we will do so. Jose, pictured here, has come a long, long way from his beginnings with us four years ago. That encourages me.

Schedules of Meetings

A moment of silence please to allow us catch our breath as our soccer season ended with a shoot-out last night so to speak, hard played games, ties and sweaty kids on the field from 6 pm to 10 pm with me still needing Deysi and Carlos to drive three other kids to another field.

Soccer camp is next week so no one is putting up their cleats yet. We haven't opened our pool due to being too busy to even think about it and tomorrow is the last day of school. I'm catching up on SST meetings for the kids and the wonderful services they receive at school, awards days and end of the year class parties, three kids, Martin, Sabrina, and Jose moving up to middle school with my granddaughter, Baby Yolie.

I have a meeting this morning with a Match committee to help me deal with Teresa's pathological thievery. Joey met with his probation officer yesterday and was, predictably, in a raging meltdown last night to the point he was threatening Gito. Gito slept next to Sergi just to keep the peace.

Still don't know if Edgar will march with his class but they played a great game last night of church league softball with another one tonight at 9:30 pm. I guess I'll just wait to sleep and eat when the kids are grown.

Guess not, as I'll have about 4 times as many grandkids and their games, events and schedules to factor in as well.

Widespread Family Panic Attack

After age 50 it is tough to sleep. I'd been up late and finally dozed off around 11:30. A little after 1 a.m. Sergi, holding his cell phone, woke me up trying not to lose himself to hysteria, telling me that the police had called Jesse, my Navy son stationed in Virginia, to identify Daniel for them.

"DANIEL?" I screamed as I jumped out of bed, reaching for the cell phone in utter disbelief.

I went cold with shock, my brain terribly unable to decipher what he was telling me, that there was a missing man, it was Daniel, and police involvement.

Joe was on the cell phone, his voice high-pitched with worry, as he was telling me that Jesse had called him, they were trying to get to the bottom of this without alarming me, but all three now grown sons of mine were sick with fear, having to tell me that something might be terribly wrong with their younger brother Daniel.

I was still trying to put these unreal words together into a sensible sentence, I'd talked to Daniel twice that afternoon when he'd emailed me soccer video snippets and we'd talked about the four games I had on my schedule for Monday night. How could he be missing? He had an appointment with the Georgia National Guard Recruiter with Chuck's dad on Monday afternoon, my mind raced.

Talking to Joe, I'd hit my cell phone to call Daniel only to get his voice mail, Joe hollering he'd already tried all the obvious things.

Sergi, with his military training, was coming up with better options, he woke up Miriam who saves phone numbers like I save flower seeds...who knows when you'll need them?

She had a number for Daniel's neighbor, Wynn, who'd gone to high school with him. I called this guy who was at a gas station, and I asked him to run see if Daniel's jeep was there, to bang on his door, to find him, my voice shaking, my heart pounding, and fighting tears. Vanessa'd run to wake up Edgar, both girls wide-eyed with stark terror.

Joe said Jesse'd said it was either a Greensboro, Greenville or Gainesville police department, common names in the South. I tried calling the nearest one, a small town police department, but their non-emergency number isn't answered at night. I'm thinking about calling our local sheriff who'd watched Daniel play baseball with his stepson for years, but if they'd heard anything, they know where we live, they'd have already driven out to our house, not particularly reluctant to wake me up at night, having done so before several times over the years.

Joe called Greenboro, NC PD and finally got to the bottom of it, there was a black man with facial hair, birthday close to our Daniel, same name...Joe still wrestling with his emotions never even told the police that Daniel was Hispanic, he just said Daniel was very tan. Joe's gut tells him all is well, so he called me back on Sergi's phone, as Daniel was then finally calling me on my cell phone.

Daniel's initial question to his terror-stricken mama was, "How are you ever going to last the nine weeks I'm in basic training?"

Like that is the issue.

His friend, Wynn, had come pounding on the door, hollering, "Dude, you better call your mama, she's freaking out about you!"

Daniel, who never panics, responded to Wynn, "She probably heard about some car wreck and she's checking where all her kids are."

Yeah like I get up at 1 a.m and listen to a non-existent police scanner and randomly call my kids if I hear skid marks? I don't think so, son.

I calmed down enough to tell him what was going on, Joe was then beeping into Daniel's phone, so we said our good-byes and love yous, me still trying to slow down my pounding heart.

When I went back to bed at 2, I just watched the digital clock, an MSNBC special, and my houseplants grow until I could finally calm down enough to sleep around 4, only to have to get up at 6, still shaking like a leaf.

901 Blog Entries

I've written 900 blog entries now which surprise me. I've often thought of writing a book but felt there was no free time, Claudia got me blogging, and it's filled a need I must have had inside me as I've found it fulfilling plus it helps me to remember, to understand, and to put our life into perspective. Hearing from other moms has meant a great deal to me also. I've appreciated the emails very much.

My initial thought upon awakening this morning was that we'd had no explosions nor other issues in the past day or so. Fabian has been affectionate, Jeremy has spent the weekend with us, thus distracting Edgar, and Vanessa is my armpit baby. We were weeding last night together as it grew dark and found a spot where we could put in some sweet corn that she'd been craving.

Somehow, right before bed, Gito turned off his lights and felt his way to his bed, cracking his forehead against a corner of something, it looked as if it'd have an indentation this morning but the swelling has subsided.

What could send me slap nutso would be the hygiene issues here. I am bumfuddled on a minute by minute basis as I find poop in unlikely places, the smell of urine near a toilet but certainly not in the toilet and no sheets on the bed. I just told two, who will remain unidentified, that I cannot stand the trashiness of people sleeping on bare mattresses. Why take the sheets off? Other than to send me to a bat cage possibly.

Why can't people put the shower liner inside the shower and keep water off the floor? Why is their poop on the bath mat? Javy is my worst bathroom offender...Dr. G is valiantly attempting to get at the root cause of such nastiness. Why can't anyone get dirty clothes to the laundry room? I've been washing all the dishes simply because I want clean ones but I ran out of patience yesterday and everyone can wash their own plate, bowl, glass and silverware and get it to the dishwasher...if they don't do it right then they can sweep the kitchen.

Going out the door to church I snapped at Joey who immediately went into butthead mode, I threw my keys and purse in anger across the garage and stomped back inside. Joey got a grip faster than I did, said he was gonna be the bigger man here. When I got on the bus I ripped into every single kid collectively, made us late for church, and simply exploded about having to do all the work, getting crap from all sides, and enduring everyone's anger all the time.

We rode to church in silence, everyone got out quietly, heads hung down, and shuffled into church so quietly that the ushers asked me what the heck was wrong with my bunch today? I didn't make it to Sunday School, spent some time with Regina and Lisa instead.

The best adjusted 20 year old that I know, Lisa's son Justin, heard me telling them about Edgar's Midol issues and without missing a beat, Justin had me knee slapping with laughter, as he straight faced explained it was made for a woman, strong enough for a man, works for him...he even gave me permission to blog this. Put my mood back up high where it belongs. Silliness is what I need more of.

But then in the sanctuary I realize that Javy reeks. He didn't smell like that when we left, my blood pressure soared, so Sonny took him home before he drew flies.

Lisa and Regina just took FIFTEEN of my kids for the afternoon to a church outing. Miriam and Vanessa went since I was uneasy about sending 13 elementary kids without me, afraid they'd make Regina and Lisa nutty as me.

Knowing how stressed I'd been this year they sent me home to relax. Gito's doing the kitchen, Mayra's playing with Tabby and Nando, I grabbed ,the clicker to watch the Braves but they're not playing until later this afternoon so I'm blogging on the sofa. Edgar's in my armpit, I'm eating the rest of Yolie's tamales, and listening to Joey and Sonny's story of the HUGE snake that was in the chicken coop. Vanessa has the camera but Sonny showed me a pic of it on his camera phone. Joey caught it but Edgar chopped its head off, this one was tremendously long.

Even though 15 kids are gone, I still have 9 here plus Sonny and Sergi. Javy already complaining that it's no fun without the Bubbas. But it is fairly quiet for once.

A Serene Saturday

My kids all have emotional radars that are super fine-tuned to every nuance and mood within our home and family. Many of them read the blog also and the remarks today have revolved around the fact that I shared my frozen yogurt with Jeremy. I don't like ice cream so I never touch the kid's stuff, they rarely touch mine either, so Jeremy's wanting yogurt over ice cream earned a reaction and a half.

They also are uneasy when Edgar is moody, therefore it is all considerably lightened today to see clingy Edgar acting as usual.

Edgar, Jeremy, Yolie and Daniel all went to the soccer games which thrills the Bubbas and Bubettes, Daniel videotaping Allen's extraordinary footwork, and Ms. Carr showing up to surprise them, has made for an overall happy day. Allen is becoming stifled by the opposing coaches hollering at the team to cover #4, hardly allowing Allen to breathe as shown by all the green uniforms around him.

With the temperatures heading towards 90 I got everyone to help clean up the house so that they can play outside this evening when it cools off. So hot right now, the Bubbas are prancing around in their undershorts.

Yolie made me some out of the world tamales, quite possibly my most favorite food of all. I have stuffed myself all afternoon, sharing some with Daniel before he left for work and even with Ms. Carr.

The kids got their soccer trophies for their teams but the season isn't over as the tournaments are beginning and can be the most fun of all.

My Infantile Puppy

It used to be that when my gardenias, zebrinas and yuccas were blooming, it was time for us to go to the beach, a routine of my life for the first fifty years. My assistant principal, Marie, would bring armfuls to our school back then, and perfume the entire place. I was thinking of her yesterday, and my other friend Marvin, as aromas can take me places in my head. I've been gone from that school for five years and I realized for a fleeting second that I really missed seeing both of them on a daily basis, as I'd worked with them there for 13 years. When I mentioned that to Yolie, she pointed out that I must really be fighting some kind of depression to miss that old pressure cooker.

My friend, Lisa, had called as well, and I'd unloaded a great deal of my stress on to her, and asked her to pray for our family as I ran out the door for Miriam's emergency dental visit.

Lisa must have immediately done so as the emotional clouds visibly blew off in another direction.

At lunch Sonny, Daniel and Sergi were all with me, varying schedules that collided for a brief hour of entertainment. Yolie'd taken Joey with her for her big grocery shopping event, and to give me some breathing space. Joey is very high-maintenance.

I saw with dismay, Edgar coming home early, but his friend Jeremy came by soon after, plopped himself on the sofa with me and was wondering about Edgar's foul mood. They left to go running and to lift weights; Jeremy, rather than Edgar, told me they'd come to the soccer game that evening. Edgar, of course, still not speaking.

Tabby had gotten poison ivy on her face. I can't soak her for 30 minutes, face down in an oatmeal bath, so I'd made her a collodial oatmeal mask which made her resemble the phantom of the Opera.

Cristy came by to visit, it's a constant flow through my kitchen and family room, and as I was starting a large pot of brown rice for tonight's supper, the middle school called to tell me that Teresa, already on probation with the Department of Juvenile Justice, had stolen someone's Ipod. This child is heading straight to a detention center and I just can't seem to reach her. Eyes blank, face straight...anyone home? Never a drop of remorse or concern, yet she is highly intelligent. The guidance counselor there, a friend of mine, has been staggered all year by the apparent willful stealing, the predatory moves of Teresa upon her "friends" and the lies that immediately spill out of her mouth in rapid succession as she offers up her version of the truth in the face of any and all evidence.

The more amusing part of this escapade was the sheriff's deputy who was the same guy I'd talked to, a couple of weeks back, when I'd found the knife in Joey's room. He alternately gave me the I Told You My Hands Were Tied Routine and I'm Sorry You Have So Many Troubled Kids Spiel. I'd taken Miriam with me to identify the articles of clothing that were missing from all my daughters that I knew we'd find at the school as well. This deputy got wind that Miriam and Daniel were going to the UGA SEC East baseball game and kept offering a police escort for them as this promised to be a dogfight of a game.

Teresa was suspended from school for the rest of the year thus increasing my burgeoning homeschool population.

Vanessa's friend, Hannah, was spending the night here with her and after the soccer game we'd all gone to, Jeremy and Mr. Silence played soccer until past dark in the meadow with all the kids.

I was tending to everything else until I had all the Bubbas finally in bed and Joey, Fabian and I settled down to watch some TV.

It didn't surprise me at all when a puppy named Edgar came bounding onto the sofa full of hugs, snuggles and kisses all over my face, offering to serve me a bowl of Publix Premium Frozen Black Jack Cherry Yogurt. Not one to ever let well enough alone, I immediately confronted him over a week's worth of his manbabygirlneedsmidol behavior which, of course, being part man, he simply couldn't verbalize his feelings. I offered up my own over-bearing explanation that he couldn't handle Mother's Day and the implications that he had a forever mother. He agreed, and apologized, snuggling like a toddler in front of his friend, Jeremy, who is no longer surprised by the infantile behavior often seen within our family.

Then, with our respective bowls of ice cream, or my frozen yogurt which I willingly shared with Jeremy, knowing he'd played a very large part in talking some sense into Edgar, we sat there watching TV on a Friday night, two handsome men who could have been gallivanting around town... and I, an almost 52 year old fogey. Go figure.

3 soccer games this morning, Daniel's coming to videotape two of them, but we have to divide up and send some grown kids to another field as the soccer tournament is now in high gear. I'm glad that Edgar is back on board, I hope he wakes up in as good of a mood as I left him in last night. Jeremy stayed over so maybe that'll help matters.

Random Acts of Wierdness

We really don't make this stuff up.

It always seems to us, a very imaginative group of young'uns, that my darling kids get injured in random, or goofy, ways.

Miriam called me this morning, from school, to tell me that her tooth got chipped and cracked, she was crying, and Yolie ran by to bring her home, while I tried to reach our family dentist as his office was closed today on alternate Fridays.

This darling dentist, in his shorts, with his three year old daughter in tow, told me to meet him at his office where he cheerfully made Miriam's smile better than new on his day off. What a sweetheart. Tina is the one who originally got our family going to him, his mama taught Sarah in high school, and she chaperoned a trip to Europe when Sarah was 16.

His daughter, Leah, is on the soccer team with CW, Lily, Paloma and Jojo. Probably the youngest child on the team, certainly the smallest, she is also one of the most focused and the strongest kicker. Being focused is something my ADHD kids would admire if they could focus, being a great ball kicker is even more admirable to them.

"So, Miriam", I asked later, "what's the story on your tooth accident?"

A huge kid at school with a permanent plumber's butt crack had walked by, and whacked her on the back in a friendly, but futile attempt at flirtation. He, being tall and wide, she being short and tiny, caused her face to fly into the locker, preceded by her front tooth which cushioned the blow for her mouth.

Too Short Childhoods

"The unfairness of it makes me very sad and yet I know that those same kids will make her proud one day, and they will in turn be so proud to be her child. I just wish they wouldn't have to look back as I do and regret not taking advantage of the little time we do get to be kids with a real Mom."

I'm borrowing that line from Yolie's Blog as I've chewed on it since last night when I read it.

"...the little time" is so true. When you adopt a child at 13, you, the Mama, have been robbed of the first 13 years of mothering that child but, even worse, is what has happened to that child when you, the Mama, weren't there to take care of them, and to protect them.

It is not insurmountable, though it often feels that way. I cannot crawl into Edgar's head and fix his fears, prove that I love him, nor erase the pain that permeates everything.

Javy, here since age 9, nearly four years, is practically incinerating his ownself on the inside with his internal rages which usually result in broken items, but never the yelling that I hear from other hurt children.

Joey, realizing slowly what he now has in a family, has had it up to here with Javy, and twice this week has gone to have a talk with him, amazingly resulting in progress. This is the end of the second week of Joey's own good behavior, a little more iffy this week, but still showing maturity. I'm realizing that I'm a hospital, a haven, for a good many kids that are going to have stumbling starts throughout their early adulthood.

Gito, at 15, has found a job, but he's been with me since age 3, he's had time to be a child and he's the baby of his sib group. He took over one of Sonny's lawn clients and can ride his bike over there. Sonny will be 20 soon and has been up and down, child and adult, for several years but is slowly becoming more mature with a lot of emotional support.

What I think I'm saying is that age 18 means nothing in our world. At 17, in 1971, I moved out of my parent's home, bursting with independence, confidence, energy and hope...in stark contrast to the fears, despair, low self-esteem and emotional turmoil in children who were parentless for way too long. As Yolie says, why can't they simply enjoy it now?

BUT THEY CAN'T. They just can't. Why trust me? Why trust anyone? Why would this lady love them when their own birth mom didn't or couldn't?

Get real, Cindy.

My kids are usually physically affectionate, and often verbal, in proclaiming their love for me, but deep down they deeply mistrust this feeling, and push me away, or act out in their testing behaviors.

Joey will be 18 in September and he's no more ready to wipe his own mouth than he was ten years ago. He will take so much more supervision.

Vanessa went to Field Day yesterday to help the teachers and Ms. Carr sent me these photos. Vanessa's made more emotional progress in two months of homeschooling than she made in her first six years here with me. Upset that I've cried openly this week, she's also been trying to make up for Edgar's surprising coldness to me.

Yesterday I literally cried into my T-shirt as Daniel has informed me he's joining the Georgia National Guard. Yolie and I have both had meltdowns over this, have tried to dissuade him, and sent him to Chuck's father for a talking to. Chuck's father, however, is a retired full-bird colonel from the GNG, and is not only encouraging Daniel, but is also going with him to the recruiter's office to get him a sweet deal.

Sergi and Daniel double-teamed me last night over this, and I responded like a little girl which Daniel can't stand for me to do. I just got Sergi back, Jesse lives 500 miles away, and Daniel wants to go? When I pushed Jesse and Sergi into the Navy, there was not a war in sight, within months after their boot camp, boom...Iraq. Daniel will get a guaranteed no deployment for two years so he can finish college, and he's getting into the brainy end of it with communications. He's excited, I'm apprehensive and wary.

Even Joe stood open-mouthed in surprise when I told him about Daniel's plans last week.

I hollered to Daniel last night, "Is this your way of acting out?"

"Mom, this is what I want to do."

He's almost 21, a grown man, mature all his life actually, and I have to let go...

Big Mama don't let go very good. I guess I have issues also.

I went to a soccer game for Mayra and Martin, since Javy melted down and wouldn't go, last night at 8:30 p.m. I sat there sullenly and pouted about Daniel and Edgar. Joey, trying to entertain the crowd, took off his shirt and shook his blubber everywhere, until Vanessa screamed in disbelief and protest because, by then, Joey wanted to use her lipstick to draw a face or something on his quivering belly.

Home by 10 pm, Martin still laughing so hard over Joey's antics, he could hardly walk upstairs to bed. Joey was dancing around annoying the tar out of Vanessa. "Are you going to blog this, mama? Want a picture?"

No thanks.

I was exhausted from the emotions of this week, so I crawled upstairs to my room, while Vanessa, Miriam, Joey and Fabian wolfed down bowls of cereal that late at night. I had checked on Edgar, curled up in a fetal position on his bed since early evening, touched his forehead only to find it kinda hot, I'm worried that depression is getting to him, graduation looming but it is threatened by his inability to function like another 19 year old. But it's not something we can talk about when he isn't even speaking to me.

Really Normal

My beautiful niece, Lauren, for prom. I wish she could be a fly on the wall at my house and hear everyone ooh and awe over the pictures she sent. Sergi hasn't seen her in four years and he was shocked that she'd grown up while he was in Japan.