Can't Buy Me Love

"One route to more happiness is called "flow," an engrossing state that comes during creative or playful activity, psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi has found. Athletes, musicians, writers, gamers, and religious adherents know the feeling. It comes less from what you're doing than from how you do it.

Sonja Lyubomirsky of the University of California at Riverside has discovered that the road toward a more satisfying and meaningful life involves a recipe repeated in schools, churches and synagogues. Make lists of things for which you're grateful in your life, practice random acts of kindness, forgive your enemies, notice life's small pleasures, take care of your health, practice positive thinking, and invest time and energy into friendships and family.

"Research shows that people who are grateful, optimistic and forgiving have better experiences with their lives, more happiness, fewer strokes, and higher incomes," according to Easterbrook. "If it makes world a better place at same time, this is a real bonus."

People who positively evaluate their well-being on average have stronger immune systems, are better citizens at work, earn more income, have better marriages, are more sociable, and cope better with difficulties.

The entire article can be found here. It capsulizes how I inherently feel in that happiness is an effort and a choice but is well worth it.

Another article suggests that money doesn't buy happiness which is also a big relief as I don't have any, and finally I came across another article regarding optimism.

I am not writing a research paper, but I do talk with my kids 24-7, and this kind of information is paid attention to, by them, in a big way. Positive thinkers don't land in my family via CPS, rather I get some emotionally beat down children struggling with depression, feelings of doom, and absolutely no measurable self-esteem. Then I have X number of years, way too few, to attempt to build them up, and show them all the options that life has available for them. It seems to be a long way UP at times but my determination even surpasses my boundless energy in this. As if.

Where does an adoptive family find optimism? That's a tough one as we seem to be held under by other people's damage to our own children. Edgar, handsome, athletic and charming can spout off such negativity as to astound me. Thirteen of his developmental years were spent in a seemingly fatalistic series of environments, plopped down in my house suddenly with Sally Sunshine must have stunned his protective sensibilities into an unknown, uncharted realm for such a damaged older brother to his siblings. Sandwiched between Daniel and I, Edgar learned, or at least watched, goal-setting and determination on a daily basis.

Edgar has since learned that I'm not going to participate in a gripe session with him over nothing, he'd walked in last night wanting to fuss about something but I didn't bite the bait, six years of this, he's finally learning to make an little effort to be happy. He found me a few minutes later up at the pool being silly with the kids and he willingly joined in, he started up a new game of pool volley-basketball with no-wrestling restraint rules involved, and quickly found himself happy. Laughing, silly behavior is what I feel binds us together, cements our good times, and makes my kids want to be with each other. We ate Jack's birthday cake late before bed and everyone went to bed in a decent mood...progress in action. Hugs, kisses and affirmations that they didn't even realize were part of the healing process.

"Optimism psychology is in the field of cognitive science. It is not magic. But, the event-explanations of optimism can be practiced and learned, even by those who have not consistently used them previously." I read this book linked here years ago and I was very encouraged.

I did not grow up this way, I chose to be this way, probably in response to having parents born during the Great Depression. I see my parents constantly espousing gloom and doom as a second nature, they feel that preparation for life events requires the worry gene, and that they should be ready with all aspects of negativity base covering. Yuck.

Why get out of bed then? Give me goofiness and joy, an Alfred E. Newman outlook.


Does anyone want to be grumpy? Heck no, not me, and likely I have 30 something reasons to grumpetize me but I'm choosing to smile at them all, and have fun in spite of it all, and daily make my choice to be positive. During my years of dating escapades I always had plenty of boyfriends due to my carefree, indifferent attitude toward guys. No drama, no angst as I danced out of grip, I really just wanna have fun, I'm not here for a long time, I'm just here for a good time attitude. In my life now with the kids it's more of a don't bring me down, let's see what all we can get done with our dreams and goals mentality. I think it is contagious, or at least encouraging, to the kids. Their gratitude and appreciation comes later, but it does come as they learn to cope with what else life will bring their way.

I am so not a party girl, I am a doer. My own fun comes from accomplishments as, duh, a party ends at some point. Achievements build upon each other, spur on more dreams, and a resulting sense of feel good brain waves. I want to be happy, it is a deep desire of mine, and I've successfully found happiness in spite of living with originally profoundly unhappy children. I've got to teach them happiness, changing one's mind-set can create a wonderful sense of joy and purpose. Chasing one's dreams, meeting goals, gaining small victories all combine for a sense of well-being as I teach the kids to risk loving me, trusting us, and going for the gold in their own lives.

Don't tell me this can't be done when I'm doing it. I simply don't care how dorky a 51 year old cheerleader looks, this is what I am now.

2 Days In A Row

Edgar and Sonny have gotten really good jobs now in the manufacturing industry, 30 minutes away from here. They have to be there at 6 a.m. and don't come home until 5 pm, during the busy season they'll work 50 hour weeks. They came crawling in yesterday only to answer all my questions in a macho male monosyllable way, reminding me that they are now grown men, and don't need their mama to make them get up at 5 each morning. I, however, am not ready to take that chance yet, seeing them out the door this morning I could tell that both men, inhaling my coffee fumes, were glad for the audience...a recognition so to speak of what they were attempting to become, both of them laughing that I'd already eaten that entire half gallon of Publix Premium frozen yogurt in a 24 hour period. Guess Mama has to drag her own butt to town now, she doesn't have her manboys to run her errands.

Jack is turning six today which will necessitate a trip to town as he wants a bicycle for his birthday, unbelievably Yolie and Chuck's son, CJ, will turn one tomorrow. His big party will be Saturday.

Again I got another several peaceful hours last night in the gardens and a thought came to me. In Fabian's mixed up mind, he was a fairly well-behaved son to all his former moms and seemingly still they gave him away. He's been a turd to me and I have stuck by him for six years now. What message must that be sending him? I ran that theory by him as he looked at me with his soulful brown eyes, thinking, not saying anything for a minute. "You might have a point Mom," he finally replied. Then, shockingly, he cleaned out the kitchen sinks, this from a boy who hates chores, who picks fistfights in an effort to avoid a task.

He'd fully participated in yesterday's neuro-psych evaluation, the clinical psychologist employed by Dr. G mentioned that it appeared his issues are springing from a lack of motivation and his emotional distress not from any sort of organic brain injury. This is just her initial assessment, not having scored everything yet, but it confirms my gut feelings. This lady, Dr. A, young and beautiful, but most importantly, sharp and astute, surely must have captivated Fabian, he didn't complain nor sulk about spending hours there.

I got restless staying in that building so I escaped, while waiting, like an ape from the zoo and ran to Goodwill where I bought yet another 44 forks and spoons since we seem to ingest them as well, so often do I need new ones.

Joey was such a butt when I got home, difficult and exasperating, finally Emily's dad, called and needed his help on something, which makes Joey grin like a banshee, dress to the nines and gallop out the door to be helpful.

This is the 4th day that I have five kids still at camp. CW is moping around for Martin, Tabby is totally distressed about Memaw Sabrina. I keep reiterating she'll be home Friday, but seeing is believing in Tabby's little world.

I don't talk much about my 15 year old daughter, Alex, who is in residential psychiatric care. I feel so helpless in the face of her very severe issues. She was unable to come home for either Thanksgiving or Christmas as she was a danger to herself and to others. I go see here monthly, and we have therapy then together, but her issues are not with me nor her past but are deeply within her psyche, genetically predisposed and frightening to us all. Since I'm hoping and praying that Jesse comes home for CJ's birthday (if his ship isn't still out to sea), I'd asked for Alex to get therapeutic leave, she hasn't earned it, she's been trying for a year now, but success has so eluded her. The treatment team met, and decided to allow her attempt a weekend with us, so I'll drive 100 miles each way tomorrow and bring her home for 48 hours.

Teresa continues to respond favorably to the very intensive in-home counseling she is receiving twice a week which is about as positive as she's been in over seven years.

Today is our very last social worker visit as Joey's caseworker will wrap up his lifelong involvement in the social services realm. We'll pretty much trade her for mental health professionals, probation officers and law enforcement personnel...so not a fair trade.

I've had 20 years of social worker visits in our home. We've been blessed with awesome workers every single time. In my adoption years I have heard of so many complaining families yet I've never, for one minute, experienced incompetence, and I'm grateful for that. My kid's workers in Texas have been equally as wonderful, obviously none of these sibling adoptions would have worked out so well without all the professional support that we have received.

Joyce, Emily, (especially Emily for years) Tom and Paige, here in Georgia, have supported me, explained to me, helped me, and identified many of the issues I couldn't see as I was drowning in the kid's negative behaviors. Emily always had the uncanny, very perceptive ability to pinpoint exactly what I was hollering about, and help me comprehend what was really going on as I often couldn't see the forest for the trees.

Catalina, Drew, Maureen, Lizzie, Janice, Patti, Shana, and Pam all helped me understand, from the children's side of the fence, their backgrounds and history. Half of those workers are still in the trenches as well, all of the Georgia ones have not fled to less stressful jobs such as damage control for government officials or anything else.

I, and my children, have been very blessed, and we know it and are grateful. I still have 23 kids younger than Joey so it isn't like our adoption issues are over. Two more decades and I might be able to take a deep breath... but truly not until then.

Joey made it through his adoption finalization proceedings without any more acting out behaviors. When informed after the fact, that it had been finalized, he smiled and said, "Praise God."

I remarked something to the effect that it took an act of God to make this happen. I had talked to Pam that morning about having the judge in Texas call Joey but, knowing Joey, why set him off? This needed to be low key. I said something later about my new son which caused several kids to light up. We're finally going to reach 40 kids? Like my kids come in ones? Back off boys, 39 works for me.

Pam told me about a sib group she was working with now and the thought had crossed her mind that they would do well in my family. Even this, knowing their ages, does not make me feel like adopting again. I thought about those four kids all day and told Pam that I had waiting families in Adopt America. She also had a little information about two birth moms of different sibling groups in my family. I've thought about both those women often as well. I am raising nine of their children, while one is still huffing paint, the other is successfully holding down a job.

The drama seems to have evaporated around here for quite some time now and I am deeply appreciative of that relief. Yesterday I thought Edgar and Sonny were a bit clingy, yet not negatively so at all, Joey had good reason to be antsy, but contained himself, and even went with Sonny to work for Chuck yesterday evening. I'd had to send Sonny back to Publix since he'd had a brain fart and gotten me ice cream instead of frozen yogurt. Yuck, ice cream seems too thick for me to digest in this heat, he knows I eat the frozen yogurt. He and Edgar, who'd shopped together, looked at each other like I was the fickle one.

I'm looking at many different school options for Fabian next year. Emotionally he has progressed a bit, academically he is stunted so badly as to be 14 1/2 not yet even out of 7th grade. That's not good. I've called a local private Christian school but the tuition is daunting, impossible for me actually, but I believe if that's where God wants Fabian to go then He will make it possible. Fabian expressed a serious interest in it as they've built a new campus fairly near us.

Vanessa continues to be wonderful, we talked about this school option for her as well, excited initially, she changed her tune after thinking about it. She dearly wants her GED and to hit the work world. Normally I'd be chagrined over substandard educational choices yet I've come to learn that, in adoption, education often takes a backseat behind emotional issues needing attention. Fabian told me yesterday that he is coming around to understand some of my struggles behind the scenes in our family, how quite possibly everything I do for them benefits them, that I'm not so mean, but that I really do care. DUH, son. Sometimes I am bumfoozled by their thought processes.

I got to work for several hours in my gardens yesterday evening which totally clears my mind and helps me to plan, focus, and redirect my attempts at helping my family. Cell phone in my pocket, Ipod blaring Southern Gospel in my ears, I methodically weed, prune and strategize as I work, honestly it often is such a relief and a stress buster for me. Grandma cooked dinner for the kids so I just stayed outside alone with my hens and two time-challenged roosters, a blessed relief for me. Vanessa fried me up Vidalias and my home-grown squash but I'm neither hungry nor concerned with time when I'm in the gardens. I asked her to refrigerate it, I'd eat it for breakfast the next day. I had been alternately munching on cherry tomatoes and blueberries out there anyway.

This morning I am taking both Teresa and Fabian into Dr. G's offices, where they've never been before as he makes house calls for us, for neuro-psychological evaluations. More in-depth, hopefully to uncover what I seem to be missing in the comprehension of what they need to function successfully in this world.

One sibling group I have been raising since their respective births, CW, Lily and Jack, now 10, 8 and 6, set me to thinking at times about how they would have felt if they'd been through the foster care system. They are my grandkids and each one left the hospital at birth and came to me. My other kids, all sibling groups, bounced from house to house, shelters and foster homes for years, together and separated from their sibs. Then eventually they landed in my home, dazed and confused, like war refugees. No wonder it takes them years to get their bearings, to trust, and to like me.

Sunday night Vanessa spontaneously kissed me on the cheek...that took six years. Her birth brother Edgar has been affectionate all along, indeed I nearly have to peel him off of me, their two little brothers, JoJo and Allen are also very loving. Chuy would rather kiss a possum than express love to me at this point. I can see that he is beginning to trust me yet he holds back emotionally in a big way. That's alright son, I can out wait you.

It's In The Details

Both boys just came in, "OK, Mom, we got a new tire. Do you want the receipt?"

"Nooooo for the ten thousandth time, YOU need to file the receipt since you spent the money on your truck. Did you get a spare tire so this won't happen again?"

Both boys looked at me blankly and seriously had the audacity to reply, "But you didn't tell us to do that."

"Do I have to tell you every single obvious
thing???"

Apparently so.

After an hour of Mama time, freshly revived, I sent both boys back to get a spare time.

Sheepishly on the way out the door Sonny, trying to make amends for sucking the life outta me all morning, "Mama ya want me to go pick you up some Publix Premium Low Fat Frozen Black Jack Cherry Yogurt on our way home?"

"Ya THINK son?"

Missing Memaw

Tabby's toilet training has evaporated...by the time I got back from the two minute ride to taking Sabrina to the church yesterday, Tabby had an accident...plus several more later, cried through supper, and wailed for an hour at bedtime inconsolably.

It'll be a very long week for her....

Beavis & Butthead

I often look at my dogs who are lying in the family room and remind them, the dogs, that they aren't indoor dogs. Last night all five were barking so loud that I woke up thinking they were next to my bed. I decided then, at 3:15 in the morning, to go check on everyone. We have a very rambling house so it took awhile to check on everyone's snoring capabilities. Fortunately for them, all was as it should be.

At 5 a.m. I went back to wake up Edgar for the first day of his new job but, surprise, surprise, he was up, had made his lunch, and was ready to go. A 5:14 I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing I had 12 hours of manboy-less oxygen available to me.

At 5:40 the phone rang and Edgar told me that they'd had a flat tire and no spare.

"Why don't you have a spare?" I'd hollered.

Predictable reply, "I dunno."

I had to drive way down past the county dump and pick up Sonny, Edgar and the very treadless tire. "How have y'all NOT noticed the shape of this crappy tire?"

"I dunno."

Plus they'd sat in the truck for 20 minutes, waiting on me, not thinking to go ahead and remove the tire. Or get the truck farther off the highway. They did think to call their boss though, I take our victories in very small doses.

This maturity building is gonna take awhile I can see.

"Have y'all thought of Plans B,C & D?" I questioned.

"No ma'am," they replied in unison, which just got me to yapping about two boys with half a brain each, that early in the morning, ought to be able to think at least five minutes into the future without needing Mama to tell them what to do.

"Welcome to MY world, "chortled Edgar.

"Not funny, son."

I pointed out to Sonny, who had no money, that his birthday present would be given in advance by two weeks and it'd be a new tire so we went back home, got my old truck and I sent them both out to tend to business without Mama holding their hands.

It took two more cell phone calls before they even got off the dirt road as they called to question me about what to do.

"Do y'all pee by yourself or do you need directions?" was my parting shot.

By the time they get back home later they may have thought of the right answer to that.

Preston's Cooking

In the five months and three days since we lost Bailey, and my appetite shut down, Sarah has been cooking up a storm, and bringing me much of the leftovers, so that she can therapeutically cook even more delicious dinners for Preston and Ray.

Last night Preston cooked, like he sometimes does on Sunday evening, and I just ate those leftovers. He calls it a goulash but it was like a tomato based soup with okra, corn, brown rice, poblano peppers, onions, garlic and assorted spices.It so hit the spot.

I should have gained a ton of weight, what with all this good cooking, but I guess the stress is still in charge.

Jose, Javy, Martin, Mayra and Sabrina just left for five days of church camp. Edgar and Sonny drove off to finish paperwork before starting real work tomorrow, Sergi started a new job today, and Vanessa is at Hannah's house. With 9 out of 25 kids gone it is fairly quiet which is a good thing as it is raining and we're stuck inside.

Memaw packed a suitcase and left 3 wide-eyed siblings alarmed at the presumed desertion. Jonathan and Paloma SWORE they understood the fact their two bio sibs, Javy and Jose, would come back in 5 days but we'll see how that goes. I finally have Tabby and Nando toilet-trained but I can spell regression real good.

Minor Leagues

Walking to Sunday School yesterday, my friend Linda B, mentioned she hadn't had time to read my blog that morning. Had anything happened? I momentarily drew a blank and could not remember. This blog is literally so cathartic for me that once I've spewed it out, I've seemingly dealt with it, time to move one. Maybe a reason that I've persevered all these years is due to my inability to hang on to a grudge for any length of time. Being old and forgetful has its advantages here.

Joey has to return to his Community Service this morning as he did not properly sign off last week, plus his poopy attitude had earned a probation officer visit, accompanied by a deputy, to our house on Friday. Sometime today Joey's adoption will be finalized, and he is, of course, attempting to make me pay for it. We live out Remedial Adoption Issues daily in the most mundane, illogical roles on earth.

During housecleaning time yesterday I grew very exasperated at the laziness of Fabian. I snapped at him that is was not possible for any human being to do all thework in our family and why should I be expected to do it all?

He looked at me dead-on and serious to the bone, "Because you're the mom and it's your job." He was not being a smart butt either, this was seriously his reply.

I sure don't think so son as I stayed on his rear end until he'd cleaned the upstairs boy's bathroom. So surprised was Joey, at such a ridiculous thought spoken aloud by Fabian, that he totally cleaned his room without a peep. Shaking his head at Fabian's risky reply, "boy are you stuck on stupid or what?"

Momentarily embarrassed by the thunderstruck look on the Bubba's faces who would never have thought of speaking such a moronic reply to me, Fabian tried to regain his ground, spluttering even dumber explanations, but cleaning the bathroom perfectly.

I pointed out to him that he needed to step up to the plate, be the man of the house what with Edgar finally getting another job, which drew an outraged, "What?" from Edgar who was three rooms away, buffeted by the noise of 28 other people in the house.

"Until you get home each day," I elaborated, realizing I'd stepped on his most obvious fear. These delicate male egos combined with abandonment and rejection issues force me to choose my words more carefully each day. But can that manboy hear good or what?

We did not swim until after supper, and Joey and Fabian spent quite awhile wrestling hard with each other all over the pool, my eyes on them making sure no fury was involved as their brawls are legendary, and involve much broken furniture. They managed to grin the entire time, easing my suspicion that this too could explode into an expression of Joey's adoption fears and Fabian's lack of anger control.

If Joey can maintain himself all day we will celebrate tonight, if I mention it this morning he'll make sure that I want to call the attorney to prevent any adoption from taking place. It took every ounce of my willpower on Friday, while dealing with law enforcement personnel, to NOT make that call. By evening when he'd calmed down, we heard from Pam, his caseworker, who expressed her happiness over his adoption. Hearing her approval somehow calmed that beast, aka insecurity, for the remainder of that evening.

Dr. G, and others, have expressed their disbelief several times over me being finished with adding any more children to our family. Even my children have questioned me about it, as if it somehow indicates that I no longer care about other children. I have tried to explain to anyone and everyone that when I feel I have heard from God, to either stop or (back then) to continue, that I strongly feel that I will do what I believe God wants me to do. It's easy for me to be strong when I feel in my gut that I'm following God.

Bottom Line, I'm done with adoptions. My Big Focus is on being The Mama to all my kids, Abuelita to the grandbabies. My goals are now revised, redrawn and redirected. Contrary to Sergi's assessment, I am not elderly but energized, excited about the second half of my life that will hopefully involve less paperwork, social workers and law enforcement personnel. Who knew that Joey, age 17, would be my final finalization nearly eight years after we met in South Texas with his then worker Janice and her dear husband, George. What a long, difficult battle Joey has fought with himself, what a long way to go he still has...

But reading about this teenager, the second part in a series of articles, reminds me why I do what I do. It is so easy, a no-brainer attempt for me at making a difference.

Minor league manager Joe Mikulik had a major league meltdown cracking me up on TV this morning as Jose pointed out, "There's YOU, Mama, on TV." This outraged manager hurled second base across the field, screamed at the umpire and threw a major league hissy fit captured on camera. Before anyone dare point out his possible immaturity, I'd like to remind people that stress, passion and fury all need an outlet...my ulcer prevention strategy demonstrated for all sports fans to see. Watch the video link, it shows how stupid my own temper tantrums look to others. My kids have been giggling at ESPN all morning every time they re-air the video.

A Job Opportunity

Vanessa is experimenting with food and nature photography here.

I spent nearly the entire day working in the gardens yesterday which always makes me feel wonderful. My ditzy dad somehow ran his riding mower into a tree which knocked off his glasses that he then ran over. Jeepers this man still drives a car also.

Sonny has been out of high school for two years now and it's been an ongoing struggle for me to keep him on target. He finished a month before age 18, now he's a month before age 20. He has found several jobs and lost them for several reasons, none of which involved his work abilities. He is a worker but he's struggling with intelligence, ethics and responsibilities. He has also needed this two years time period to gain some maturity, he has spent most of it close to me.

A man we know, the husband of a teacher I used to work with, ran into Sonny last week and offered him a really good job in a manufacturing plant. This man, Chris, called to tell me about it which was a good thing as Sonny doesn't accurately relay messages nor volunteer information all that well.

Chris offered Edgar a job also. They interviewed last week and, like all males, had zero information for me when I later questioned them on how it went. Fortunately Chris came by last night and explained everything to me.

This is a wonderful opportunity for both guys, superb benefits and chances for promotions and pay raises. They'll have to be out of here by 5:15 every morning for four 10 hour days, but if they also work on Fridays it'll be very well-paid overtime. After Chris left I gave them a talking to, explained what Chris had told them in detail, answered their questions, and coached them both on responsibility.

This could be their golden opportunity. I'd recently been telling Edgar the very dismal statistics regarding kids who have grown up in foster care. While Edgar has only had six short years in a family, he does have the foundation now to be successful, and obviously his family isn't going anywhere. He is the oldest of his sibling group of 7 and that emotionally anchors him plus he is a self-proclaimed mama's boy.

I think I need to cut, or at least lengthen, Edgar's apron strings certainly, he's been glued to my side for months alternately pushing and pulling me. We've gotten along for a couple of weeks now as our little dramas have been overshadowed by larger melodramatics from the other kids.

Each morning I scan several newspapers online and am magnetically drawn to children's stories. This series caught my eye, repelled and shocked me. But it predictably strengthened my resolve to continue applying pressure on my grown kids for accountability in their lives, to not ever enable anyone top fall short of what I expect them to do in life. When I read stories such as this I always think of my own children and where they came from, how they'd often been split up in foster care and, of course, the squalor, disarray and chaos that they'd come from...what a tragic waste of human potential in children everywhere.

A One Note Wonder

... might well be one of the reasons that more than 500 Texas children died of abuse or neglect from Sept. 1, 2001 to May 31, 2004.

It may appear to be overly evident that I am obsessed with the issues in children's welfare, subtlety not being my strong suit. Adopting 38 children alone might have given that fact away to a discerning reader, but this one note wonder here also deeply desires to either change things or, at the very least, make more people aware of the situation. Wearing my feelings on my face is who I am. I am not very complicated, but I am a tough old bird.

Those who are in the trenches daily such as the social workers, foster and adoptive parents are more than horrified by what they see. Us, usually incredibly naive, adoptive parents are the last in line, as the children don't come to us until all resources and attempts at reunification have failed to provide these children with a family. The children who then do come to us are nearly emotionally destroyed, shell-shocked, traumatized human beings who only physically resemble children.

Then we will spend the rest of their lives trying to help them. Anyone who thinks this is over at age 18 is seriously deluded.

Most of their emotional progress is not even available until their mid-twenties or so. Remember it was Mark Twain who suggested that teens should be put into a barrel and fed through a straw until they grew up. This statement did not even refer to kids such as mine, just teens in general. The man was on to something.

Sitting and talking with my 24 year old military veteran son last night reminded me of the severity of the enormous pain within that never goes away. Angrily brushing away tears, literally trying not to sob, and being male thus unable to truly express his feelings, Sergi told me that he felt he was close to a nervous breakdown. Why did it still hurt? He's been with me for 16 years. His fear memories poured out of him, watching my other kids act out pulls off his scab as he painfully remembers his profound pain and fright when he moved in with me long ago after a disrupted adoption.

"Mama, how do you do it? Day after day with the demands of everyone pulling at you?"

Edgar, 19, wandered outside eating out of a carton of ice cream, checking on Sergi, glancing at me, no raised voices between us, just tense whispering, and Sergi's swollen eyes. Sergi had already spent a couple of hours unloading his military experiences on Grandpa, who if nothing else, can offer a listening ear and counseling experience from his years in the ministry. At least Sergi wasn't holding it all in, I have always encouraged my kids to let it out.

Before bed last night as I wandered through the house checking on everyone I found Edgar and Sonny back in Sergi's room, watching TV with him, quietly demonstrating their understanding just by their comforting presence. Sergi needed that. This morning he'll work with Yolie's husband, Chuck, who is starting his own landscape design business, alongside of Big Joe who has always emotionally supported Sergi.

I'd told both Fabian and Sergi, separately last night as they both were questioning my source of strength, why did I never seem to crumble? Duh, God strengthens me, it's called a rock solid faith, and an enormous assurance of what I am called by God to do, He equips me daily, but I reminded them both that I'd often dissolved into tears and anger before, life is hard for everyone to navigate; pressures, stress and demands are on everyone...not just damaged children. I'd a heap sooner see family members cry than to see them punch through walls and windows in their rages. I've broken plates, hot-headedly with steam pouring out both ears weeded my gardens, or used some other physical outlet for my own outraged feelings of unappreciated martyrdom around here...I am overly emotional at times also, but I'm certainly not going to hold it in and get an ulcer.

I see my children, so emotionally handicapped by past abuse and neglect, struggle to even act normal, the cloud is always over their heads, fears of rejection, abandonment and lack pervading their every move.

Edgar has lately taken to calling me his Queen as he also seems mildly shocked to see me still hanging in there with everyone in our family. Big Mama, Little Queenie, whatever, I'll be what you need in a nurturer son.

I goofily bounce around the house pumping them up, encouraging everyone, imparting my faith, giving hugs and kisses, cooking, loving, never giving up, cracking jokes, running my mouth, dragging in groceries, hauling out the trash, talking trash, washing their clothes, taking them swimming, refereeing fights, listening, discerning and snuggling. But most of all I try and remember where they came from, what has made them this way, often mean, hateful and very unloveable. It ain't about me...

An Evening

Armed with her brand new two year degree, Cristy further strengthened her self confidence by growing a garden this year, now picking her own produce, but most amazing to me is that somehow she figured out how to knit a scarf without so much as even reading a book on the subject. Her artistic abilities allowed her to simply figure this out, astonishing me in a big way.

Sergi, suffering from his own strain of PTSD after fours years building bombs in the Navy and heading to Iraq twice, had a hissy fit this evening over the crap that my kids put me through. I had to remind him of the years of rebellious Biggers, Joe and Jesse being total buttheads, and Cristy's peculiar painful growing up decade of hell.

Sergi is very, very stressed out, and was putting it all on me. I had to step back, point out my deep faith to him, and my fairly remarkable lack of stress considering the enormity of what I deal with each day.

We sat on the front porch as storms blew by us, thundering and lightening, one of the southern storms that nearly take the roofs off around here, but clearing the air between us. He actually mentioned my age...why did I want to live in such an environment when I could be having the time of my life?

"Duh, Sergi, this IS the time of my life." Satisfied that I'm not going to jump ship, he finally went to the kitchen in search of leftovers.

Fabian then came on the porch to tell me about camp, that he felt he'd become close to God in a new way as it was an FCA Camp that mixed leadership, athletics and religion all together. He was beaming and recounting the entire week, while Joey slunk around the house attempting to gauge everyone's feelings toward him after he'd precipitated yet another police visit to our house.

There's not a deputy in this county that needs directions to our house and, to a man, they never fail to ask about Big Joe, happy that he pulled his life together, hopeful that my other nutbirds will do the same.

Vanessa is still managing to remain high above the fray around here, jumping into the car with Yolie this afternoon, returning from the Mexican grocery store with a bagful of Pan Dulce, and so excited that Yolie'd taken her to Agua Linda. I'd been telling Vanessa that she cooked way better than what one could get at Agua Linda, she claims I lied, yet I still maintain her food is way, way better. It's after 9 tonight and she's downstairs attempting her own version of Pan Dulce as I'd already eaten the entire store bought bag.

Police Visit

The probation officer, and a deputy, had to make a trip out here this afternoon to calm Joey down and help him understand that 1 plus 1 equals 2.

If you rage and/or are unruly, disruptive and not fit for human society it looks like jail might be your only option.

Cause & effect, natural consequences...call it what you will son but we all have rules to follow in life.

Cristy's Accomplishment

I just responded to Kari's comment that Joey was having a terrible day today.

I was angry and smacked a plate into the sink which caused Edgar to remind me that the rest of them needed me to stay calm and be strong. He bear hugged me to bring down my blood pressure and I got a grip. Now he needs a nap as I was right aggrieved. I got this photo and he really was sound asleep with 20 kids in the room with him.

Cristy came by to show me her two year degree that she'd earned. And I mean EARNED. I don't even feel like getting into a description of the Hell she put us, and herself, through.

She is now starting to process her life in her blog.

I am inordinately proud of her and what she has accomplished.

Felon Adoptions R Us

I just received notice of the finalization of Joey's adoption being completed this Monday, less than three months before his 18th birthday, two months into his two year probation for the felony charge of a weapon on school grounds.

Interestingly enough, he very successfully completed his 40 hours of community service in four days time instead of five, goofy grin on his face, and dogging me about a job application at a chicken processing plant in town. Will do, son.

Vanessa protested Joey's finalization...to no avail. I didn't quit on her, what makes her think I'll quit on him? We talked adoption disruption issues all evening until I felt she was satisfied with my answers.

There have been many times that I've questioned my own sanity in continuing with the adoption process on quite a few of my children, yet someone has to be their mom, why not me? I'd mentioned to someone in Texas, at one point, to please not even tell me when Joey's adoption was finalized. Let me live in peace under the erroneous assumption that I was still a free woman. But reality always intrudes upon my dumb little fantasies, jerking me back into the starkly dismal actuality of our family's existence. There's no denying Fact with a capital F here. Another F word that I'd rather we not use.

Dr. G will be dealing with Joey's impending adulthood issues this morning, kinda coaching him, therapeutically dealing with him, and encouraging him all in one.

An unrelated, and generally random, thought involves The Weather Channel as Vanessa's friend, Hannah, told me that her family doesn't "follow" the weather, as in make it an integral part of their planning process. Nearly my every move involves the weather forecast, the temperature and the chance(s) of rain dictates my footsteps. Either you're a fan or not, I believe the world is divided in half by those who are obsessed by the weather, and those who are not. This is the kind of piddly stuff around which my mind rotates on a daily basis. You just gotta wonder sometimes...

But the weather also serves to distract me from the Facts, the Felons, the Failures, and the other F words...or Fabian who returns today with his emotional baggage.

Being A Braves Fan Today...

Sucks.

Another Hour

It took another hour to reiterate everything to boys, with apparent colanders for brains, but at least they are both handsome. I'd told Edgar this morning though to quit relying on his looks and his charming personality; he needed to develop his work ethic.

Both young men went out of here in khakis, dress shirts and ties. At least i don't have to dress them, that they can do.

Another Summer Day

Chuy, my darling little nerd, our civil engineer, got glasses this week. I'm fortunate in that Medicaid pays for glasses, it remains a challenge for my children to then take care of them properly.

Wide-eyed Nando, with his happy disposition, is being prepped by us for Pre-K. If we start now in telling him he's going to Pre-K, and that he'll have so much fun, then we just might have him totally pumped up by the time it really starts in August. I've daily told him that I'll drive him, pick him up, and bring him home each afternoon lest he suspect it is really a move in disguise. He'll have a blast, Tabby will hate the fact that her sweet Nando will be gone all day.

I've been on a roll around here about pushing Edgar out of the nest. He has resisted with all his might and we've clashed frequently. While I understand his need for security and his very profound fear of rejection and abandonment, it still behooves me to help him grow up, and start to become slightly independent. A friend called yesterday with an excellent opportunity for both Edgar and Sonny. I can't make them hold down jobs but I can keep insisting that they try and do so. Like little kids, last night we practiced job interview skills and writing down the phone numbers of references.

Joey is finishing up his week of community service and I've been spoiled by not having his disruptively annoying mouth running in my ear all week. With Fabian also gone to camp I've had a taste of freedom so to speak. There may still be 20 plus kids running around, but once the more severe issues are not in the mix, the mood is considerably lightened. My son-in-law, Carlos, has offered to see if Joey could get a full-time job there where he,Carlos, also works. My wildest dream would then come true. Lord, could it actually be possible? There would then be so much more oxygen in the house for the rest of us to breathe.

Today is Tony's last day of summer school, he's done a superb job of getting up, getting dressed, and running down the dirt road to catch the bus without the company of his siblings. My kids travel in packs and doing something individual like this is forcing the ten year old out of his comfort zone, being without his emotional guide, Lily, has been particularly scary for him as Lily tends to filter how Tony views the world, she's an interpreter and normalcy gauge for him. Jonathan & Paloma, Tabby & Nando, JoJo & Allen, CW & Martin also share this partnership amongst themselves, interesting for me to watch...years later Joe still looks up to Yolie this way much as Deysi, Saray and Marcela also tend to do.

This is the first day of me learning to get along without my daily local newspaper. I cancelled it yesterday in another attempt at cutting costs, mere pennies maybe but everything adds up. I can read it online for free, who needs another stack of paper in the house?

I am also going to slip away for a bit early this afternoon, with Yolie and Sarah, manning the fort, to dye my grey and black roots yellow once again. My bangs are down to my nose, and I don't like longish hair on an ole fart like me, barely a month until I turn 52 years old. The number shocks even me. 52 and happier, more satisfied, feeling better and more energetic than ever, I wish I'd been 52 for years.

I'm thinking we've had nearly a week of not a lot of drama, my weight starts to creep back up into the normal range, I'm sleeping well, and getting a lot done around the house. This feels good, no venting necessary.

I'd conjured up Ms. Carr recently. I swear it seems uncanny the way someone'll pop into my mind, and then I'll see them soon. She came by and swam with the kids which cements their positive feelings of another layer of adults who care about them. She'll teach Paloma and/or Jonathan next year, two kids who are emotionally demanding and educationally challenged, pretty much the story of our life. I just had psychological evaluations done on both kids in another attempt for me to be able to best discern, and try to meet, their many needs.

If I start now, before 7 a.m., I just might get Joey, Edgar, Sonny and Miriam out the door on time to start jobs, interview and complete jobs...my exercise program at best.

The cool thing about blogging...I can walk away from the computer, tend to the above, return and capsulize the events that just occurred...Grandma drove Joey to his Community Service Obligations and I just went upstairs and again covered every single base with Edgar regarding his job interview, job application and necessary attitude for his big adventure this morning. Productive snuggle time for a manboy. When I reminded him that Daniel had so encouraged him to get a job and become independent, Edgar retreated into his Peter Pan persona protesting, "but Daniel has had you since he was six years old, I've only had you for six years." After several reassuring, life-affirming hugs, he's ready to face the world once again.

Little Mama's Fried Squash

In 1980 I graduated from Emory University with a Master's Degree and being the over-achiever I tend to be, I soon started on my EdS Degree in Instructional Technology at the University of Georgia. Later faced with writing a dissertation for my PhD, versus beginning the paperwork for an international adoption, I prayed about which road to choose. I was just about sick of school by then, I was working full-time, working on the degrees fulltime, and tending to Sarah fulltime.

Obviously I went the adoption route and headed for Honduras, never looking back at UGA.

After all these years I oughta know better than to brag about someone but I'm going to risk it here as Vanessa has been doing so wonderfully well lately. She prowls the gardens, looking for the first fruits and vegetables that have ripened, bringing me my first blueberries, figs, and raspberries, cherry tomatoes, and the last of the lettuce. She'd picked squash and jalapenos this morning and fried them up with Vidalia onions for a mouth watering meal.

Our family has lately taken to calling her Little Mama since she seems to be on Big Mama's heels constantly, but Big Mama is liking this as Vanessa seems to have shed much of her viper skin and put on a new smiling face.

Little Mama had remarked that I hadn't blogged about her lately so here it is with her approval.

First Official Day of Summer

This series of articles capture the essence of where my kids came from. I was telling Yolie, after reading here how hard it was to even remove kids from homes, how bad it must have been on all my kids. Yolie said that's what she'd been trying to tell her birth mother two years ago when a birth parent reunion blew up our lives. That particular birth mom was attempting to gloss over the reality of decades of CPS involvement and criminal sexual abuse, another birth mom tried that tact also with another of my four kids as the oldest one gaped in astonishment at her. This revisionist history just don't fly.

These articles are from San Antonio where I adopted a sibling group in 1995. Their file history is heart breaking.

Joe, pictured here with his daughter, represents a huge struggle within our family. He was a tough kid to raise, Yolie and I cried oceans of tears over him as he raged for years. Now, at age 23, he and I were sitting in the kitchen yesterday, and I found myself eliciting his help in working with my other boys. Who would have ever thought that would be part of our story?

As I was typing this, Tameshia (Alyssa's mom) just walked in, saw these pictures and, of course, questioned why Joe hadn't fixed up Miss Alyssa's hair like in the third picture I have quickly added.



I highly recommend reading the above link as it portrays the stark reality of foster care, social workers, and the bullspit bureaucracy that interferes with the safety of children.

And I have to try and remember to step back, and remind myself constantly that my kids went through Hell, and that is why they act out. I don't always see the obvious as the behaviors here at times are nutso.

There's really no major drama right now...maybe to normal families it would seem so...but to us, this is what we do, and what we deal with on a daily basis. It is wearisome at best.

We are out of the softball tournament after a mercy rule loss last night, I very nearly didn't even go so bored am I with Edgar and Sonny's 19 year old immaturity levels. I literally had to force myself to go at 8:30. Sweet CW went with me. I just checked on him and Martin this morning, there are not two sweeter boys on this planet, nose to nose in bed, sound asleep, making me glad I've participated in Martin's successes. His siblings, Joey, Tony and Teresa, all terribly affected by the inhalant abuse by their mom, struggle daily with any semblance of normal behavior...Martin acts like it is his due. I like that can do attitude.

Speaking of attitudes, here's a good one from Angelina Jolie, " "Just because you're a Republican doesn't mean you don't care about children." That's good to know as I'm a Republican and I always thought I cared about children, what a sweeping and rude generalization. Here in America, I have met a very large number of church-going conservative families that have opened their homes, and their hearts, to children from the system.

While I admire the fact that she has adopted two orphans, and she is truly dedicated to the refugees of several countries, I wish she'd venture into adoption from the foster care system and get a dose of real life like some of us heartless Republicans have done.

I watched a good bit of CNN's Cooper Anderson's show last night from 10 pm to midnight and he did a great job of disturbing my peaceful middle class sleep. We are so blessed in America, and we are so clueless as to the suffering all around us.

Cooper Anderson kept harping on the fact that it is so overwhelming to consider ALL the needs of the world, what can one person do? Angelina Jolie, staggeringly beautiful, just smiled and stood her ground regarding her work in these countries and with the U.N relief organizations. She's giving away a third of her income there, putting her money where her mouth is, and making a difference.

What can one person do? The list is endless and can include encouraging yet one more person to do all that they can.

Staggering

Flipping channels and drinking a pot of coffee, I just listened to this heart-wrenching story.

I, then of course, felt guilty about complaining of the dishonesty in my children, compared to what I could be facing.

Life is so short and there is so much to be done.

There are so many needs in this world and I admire this senator for what he is now trying to do with his grief.

Prevailing Winds of Dishonesty

It is still fairly calm here overall, no major battles but constant skirmishes. Some of my older kids hit the wall, so to speak, and need redirection; one such emotional collision occurred yesterday necessitating a meeting in my office, the pantry. Tears flowed, not from me, and the riot act was read by me, "Get back on that horse and ride," was my final statement as this person has improved a great deal in this issue...yet has a way to go in the honesty department.

Another child, on the brink of adulthood, told me an obvious wide-eyed bullcrap whopper, and it cost her the cell phone for the foreseeable future. Learn it now or learn it the hard way later girlfriend. My constant refrain, "If I don't teach you right from wrong, then the world will, and the natural consequences will suck.

Me trusting you, being a result of the apparent decade of innocence, the 1950s, when doors weren't locked and you automatically trusted everyone, is a hard character trait to shake. I still trust people until they give me a reason to not do so.

Children, adopted from the system, are severely challenged by the concept of honesty. I conceptually understand their problem with it, as they've had to live by their wits, they've had to hustle to get their needs met, and they've learned dishonesty and manipulation from their early beginnings versus some used-to-be-gullible Sally Sunshine who has had a pretty easy life. But the reality of this constant deceit wears on me and frazzles my last nerve ending.

Born with an inmate sense of right and wrong, never having to beg for attention, food, shelter or any of my basic needs, and, probably most importantly, being able to be content so easily...I get the concept of honesty. Period.

Probably being so old helps also. I've seen the consequences, on TV, in various media and in life, of dishonesty. How it doesn't get anyone anywhere. I've had time to learn this, my children have not. I'm faced with telescoping so many values, concepts, education and life skills into children that I sometimes have for so few years.

When confronted with an obvious lie, I've watched my kids search their brains for an"acceptable" answer...certainly not the truth, just some bull they think I'll buy. The truth would be so much easier, but I have to battle for it. That would involve trust which is, of course, the root of every problem around here.

When Sarah was a little girl I can only remember two silly lies in more than a decade. Once when she lied about drinking chocolate milk at school, and once for taking her barrette out of her hair. She remembers both times also as she knew how disappointed I was in her. Why lie? Yet the rest of my kids have lied to me more in just walking down the hall than she lied to me in years and years. Sarah knew she could trust me and that was the pure, simple difference.

Life could be so much simpler, easier, and without the natural consequences that result from a deception. This is only in my little microcosm, imagine if the world would adopt a less nefarious approach to situations.

Different blogs that I read have lately mentioned decluttering and a simpler life due to getting back to the land, two beliefs and convictions that I cling to also. The older I get, the more I believe this as well. If I'd never adopted, if I'd stayed working, I'd have plenty of disposable income to blow on myself, and my house would be paid for...but would I have been this happy without the challenges of trying to make this work here with 39 kids? Of course not, the money would not satisfy me the way that my life now does.

Materialism
seems to be too much work, too much maintenance of a lifestyle. I'm eternally grateful that it doesn't take too much to make me happy, I could not have retired early from the school system if I needed more money. Stuff just doesn't do it for me. I'm happy, sitting like a kid with my butt in the dirt, weeding the garden for hours on end. I'm entertainment enough, I don't need to be entertained.

The main thing I seem to be lacking in my happy, insular life would be trust, honesty and, obviously, outward calm. Inner calm I do have, plus the promise of eternal happiness. Money won't buy any of that, but time will do so. I can't buy patience.

I told the One Who Lied yesterday that God gave me each and every one of my children for a reason. They need to find their purpose in life, I'm here to be their encourager, to offer counsel when they stumble, and to always be there for them.

Community Service

Since I called Joey's Probation officer to report his crappy behavior a couple of weeks ago, she decided that he'd do his community service for five days straight this week, 8-5, under strict supervision. I applaud this, she has a reputation as tough, and I, of course, think she's awesome.

Vanessa's friend, Hannah, had spent the day with us, and Joey was disruptive to the point I finally had to send him to his room. He is simply unable to maintain himself when a pretty blonde is in our house, he was simply being an embarrassing butthead that Hannah was ignoring, smart move, but Vanessa was more than ready to clobber him. I know he's apprehensive about today and is acting out. I'd earlier admonished him to not act like a fool during community service or they'd lock him up.

"Mom, I'm stupid, but even I'm not that stupid."

I don't like name-calling so I got sucked in, and I wasted my breath for several minutes detailing the difference between literally being stupid and acting stupid. Don't act stupid, son.

Our dramaless life is continuing, Yolie'd asked about it yesterday as if it surely must be a fluke.

Swimming all afternoon, pizzas for supper, CW planted yet another watermelon patch as I worked in the big garden. To get into the big garden, one must trek through an open air garden shed that has 6 kittens in it, a magnet for everyone but Yolie, with her cat allergies.

Carolina's four children joined a hundred of mine; here comes Joe, Tameshia and Alyssa while Yolie's calling to see how my day went. She, Chuck and CJ were soon joining everyone else and I'm thinking my big garden needs more seating.

Peace

Here's hoping, and wishful thinking, that the rest of my summer posts detail nothing but fun at the pool. Why can't we just all get along? Why can't we just splash and swim in the pool without issues overflowing?

Why can't we have a boring, uneventful summer? Why can't I sit at the computer and wrack my brain for some drama to post? Why do I have to decide which episode to attempt to decipher?

Three solid hours in the pool, non-stop action; once again Joey and Fabian, pushing their boundaries, picked up Yolie from the shallow end, carried her out of the pool, and all the way around to the other end to toss her off the diving board. I'm in the pool holding her son, CJ, who was oblivious to the commotion, so engrossed was he in either laughing at all the Bubbas or splashing water intently.

I'd spent all morning out in the back garden not being interrupted by battles nor skirmishes, several of my very large raised beds look better than they have in years.

Grandma had taken my debit card and grocery shopped for me as have Sarah and Yolie all summer. I can't remember when I've left our acreage this week. I'd just as soon be here, the kids need me within eyesight, and are antsy if I even go to the store for a minute to replace the hundreds of gallons of milk that they seem to put away each week.

A quiet evening as well, tired kids in bed by 9 p.m, older kids not much later. Alyssa is conked out on the sofa, in her bathing suit, snoring while all the kids scramble through. I'd worked for a couple of hours on my houseplants which have spilled out through the house, onto the porches and railings. I could so get used to this.

Before bed I'd worked several Sudoku puzzles, I've progressed from Very Easy now to the Easy ones...this with several college degrees. The book I'd spent a dollar on last month at Wal-Mart reads, 'the original brain workout from Japan' which cracks the kids up seeing me struggle through them. "What does that tell you Mama?" is the refrain echoing past me.

This, today with no serious problems, is how I dreamed my adoptions would embellish my life...cute, fun kids playing happily...and just for a day, it was so.

No Shows

Hmmm...The Waltons were on for nine seasons and I didn't ever see it. But, then again, I've never even seen Friends, Seinfeld, CSI, Survivor and tons of other hit shows. If a get a free moment, I'll turn to a Braves game or HGTV, lately Sarah has me looking at a few cooking shows, and I also like Court TV. I'll read online newspapers, blogs or real books, but usually by the time my house has quieted down at night, I want to sleep.

Last night sweet ole Big Joe, Tameshia, and Sergi took Vanessa and Miriam with them to the movies. Vanessa had devised a chore chart that has worked well here for a whopping two days now, Gito is recently obsessed with trying to figure out why our hens are smarter than we are. Everyday they escape from their totally enclosed chicken yard and head to the big garden where they scratch the snot out of every raised bed that I have. I find eggs all over the place, and the number of chickens has multiplied radically this spring. I weeded until dark, zero interruptions, listening to Javy, Jonathan and Gito as they tracked after the wayward chicks, turning it into big adventure.

My parents, Grandma and Grandpa, are back in town after a couple of months at the beach, my children circled them warily, all acting oddly, before reaching out for hugs, like they'd been re-abandoned once again, every single one of them looking over at me first like why did you allow someone to be gone for so long?

Fabian's Sunday School teacher came by for a minute to touch base with Fabian. It is so obvious that this man has been praying for my middle schoolers, a tough age group anyway, but Mr. Bill is reaching through to them all. He had hired Daniel about 4 years ago, and I can literally see this man's heart being tugged by Fabian. He is facing a huge personal loss, his sister passed away just days ago, yet his thoughts are also with Fabian. Just ten years ago I was standing in his shoes, my sister, also a young mother was taken by cancer. The resulting grief is mind-boggling.

Fabian was writing a thank you note to the deputy who'd spent hours talking to him this week. I, obviously, made him sit and write it, yet the words were his own. He remarked, "thank you for talking to me when you should have arrested me." At age 14 he struggled to correctly address an envelope. This is covered in school, we have a ton of mail coming into our home, he's seen correctly addressed envelopes on a daily basis...yet the indentations escaped him. I am surprised daily at the basics that my children do not know, and realize daily how much I need to keep teaching them; over-teaching them as I have less years than most parents to do so...plus all the other emotional stuff to overcome in my children.

We were, as a group, forming a hazy theory yesterday that the oldest child in each sib group seemed to be the most responsible until we really thought it through, then we changed it to usually.

I'd gotten a phone call at supper about an African-American baby being born with no arms, and as I was writing down all the information, one of my kids asked me if we could adopt the baby? There seems to be a waiting family identified already, but this hospital wanted to know if I could find back-up families, if this placement did not work out. Well, of course I can, there are a good number of homestudy-ready families for special needs babies. My own kids, who live here and have seen our family grow sib group by sib group, peppered me with questions about the baby and what would happen to him...I spent awhile reassuring everyone that he'd grow up happy and well-cared for in a wonderful family.

Oops

Vanessa asked, "Who're the Waltons?"

When I googled them up to show her, I was surprised to learn it had only been on TV for one season (1972-1973), guess if I'd ever watched the show I wouldn't have been a teenage mom that year.

Be Proud

In reading my last blog entry, Fabian mentioned that other people outside our family were also proud of what I've done here.

"Like who?" I wondered.

Fabian replied, "like all the cops in this county!"

To which Sarah escalated her witty comments to one such as, "clearly more psych evals are needed today."

Therapy

A side benefit to Medicaid is that I am the involuntary beneficiary of therapy as well, as I weekly discuss my kid's issues with Dr. G, and how different situations should and could be handled. I also have pastors, friends, and various social workers that I trust for their insight and suggestions.

I am fortunate that Dr. G comes to our house for therapy, where he is less threatening (than a 6'5" man like him could be), and where he sees kids on their own territory. It gives him a better understanding of our family's dynamics, routines, and any interpersonal conflicts.

Dr. G told me today that reading my blog doesn't adequately portray the amount of control and leadership that I do exert over our family. When people come in my house there is usually not a fistfight going on, you'll never hear cussing, and nine times out of ten, all is relatively calm. In my attempts to tell the real deal in the adoption of older kids I may have given an overly heavy handed approach as I mainly detail the problems, not necessarily the amount of joy that I have found in my family. The silliness here is what rules, not chaos ever, but often a lot of noise as everyone has an opinion and is encouraged to express it...but I have the final word. I pay the bills, I'm the adult. I rule the school, I'm large and in charge and there is no doubt about who's the boss.

Dr. G has even said that we are more like the Waltons than not. I appreciate that from him as he's been working with my kids for 7-8 years, a lot of time spent with us, and he just gave me a lot of Brownie points this morning for turning so many negative behaviors around into positive ones. I give the kids credit for that in finally learning to make good decisions and choices.

Dr. G says his biggest problems, in working with children, is often the parents who will not take control, who lack confidence, or do not exert leadership. Someone has to be the boss, kids need, and crave, that until they mature enough to learn how to make correct choices and plans for their lives.

Miriam was laughing yesterday that every one of my kids who walk in the door immediately holler, "where's mom?" Never, "hey everybody," but always, without fail, "where's mom?" They almost use an accusatory tone of voice like maybe I finally did take a hike.

There are rules, structure, stability, expectations, consequences, time-outs, chores, responsibility and accountability here...and room to fail if you plan to at least keep on trying. Starting with me, no one is perfect, as I demonstrate daily.

There are a million more hugs and kisses here than punched in walls and broken windows. A ton more smiles, laughs, giggles and cracking up with laughter than tears. The good times so obviously outweigh the bad as to be laughable in itself. Would I have kept on adopting if it were not so? If I didn't feel I could make a difference?

Unmistakably this has been difficult. I think that is the part I want everyone who adopts older children to understand, and I never wanted anyone to think I simply had it easier than everyone else. Maybe I do, maybe I don't. Maybe my perspective is skewed, maybe I'm tougher, maybe I'm not. I've spent a year detailing the ups and downs, a tough year certainly, and we have a long, long way to go with other kids here.

But I'll not back down, nor ease up, on what I expect from my kids. Y'all kids may had a terrible early life but don't let it cost you the rest of your life. Pick up the pieces and rebuild yourselves with the love that we offer as a family. No one is allowed to be a professional victim, don't blame others for your own bad behavior and make us proud.

If I can be considered a "good" mom, it is only because I am full of love for my kids. I am strong, strong, strong and hard-headed beyond belief, stubborn to the point of obnoxious, and dorky enough not to be bothered by any of that. This may sound conceited and, like Larry the Cable Guy, "Lord, I apologize for that."

Healing Within Families

Years ago, when Cristy would calm down from her murderous rages, I'd over-confidently tell my caseworker, "Well, all is fine now, we're gonna make it."

Emily would quietly remind me that this would soon flare up again, I'd best be prepared, but in my early-adoption life, I'd choose to follow my Pollyanna tendencies and blow her off. Yeah, Yeah, Yeah.

But it'd, of course, happen again, shocking me with its blazing intensity, and I'd go running to the phone to call Emily, and wail about Cristy's self-destructive fury that was ruining our family of then only 11 children. My then husband couldn't take it, but he was iffy anyway. If not that, then anything else coulda, woulda, shoulda have pushed him over the edge, you have to be an odd breed to handle this sort of a life. See how carefully I just chose my words?

Vanessa also seems to be greatly improved, and indeed she is, but Pollyanna here has some PTSD her ownself, and I am now unwilling to totally trust a truce. Vanessa told me that she prays thankfully each night before she falls asleep. Not thanks that she has a family, but thanks that she's isn't raging. It had taken its toll on her as well. Duh. She'll rage again, I know that, but each rage that we recover from strengthens her ability to cope with the pain in her psyche because I didn't then reject her which is what she expected me to do, yet feared I'd do. Everyone else did.

Fabian's not raging now, nor causing problems, but it's only because he's still asleep this morning. A local foundation, spearheaded by a man in our church, has paid for Fabian to go to an FCA Gymnastics & Leadership Camp next week in Alabama. Fabian is very, very slowly starting to begin to see that other people care about him, besides this mean ole mom here who holds him accountable and makes him follow stupid rules.

Fabian and Vanessa, middle siblings in a group of seven kids, six years here with me, they seem to have been the most troubled, the most vulnerable when subjected to many moves and wrenching emotional breaks from caretakers. Miriam and Edgar were both consumed with worry at the time, trying to keep seven kids together as they were split up several times, the two babies pictured above, JoJo and Allen, then just 3 & 4. Everyone wanted to adopt the cute little ones who would just have curled up and died without the other five older kids. Edgar has often spoke about the devastation he felt when JoJo and Allen were ripped away to spend several months with another foster family. Edgar had no clue where they were, nor if he'd ever see them again, and he grieved intensely. Then one day, the other family returned the two snarling tigers much to Edgar's relief and joy. Other times Edgar remembers his stark terror living in an emergency shelter, later in a psych ward for expressing his over-powering grief, and then still more placements. And a dork like me wonders about their cataclysmic emotional breakdowns resulting from pure, powerful consternation and distress? Is that an overuse of adjectives? Not in this house, with the Hell we often experience when any one of them attempt to express what has happened to them.

Edgar, now 19, still in my armpit, after six years, barely beginning to allow himself to enjoy, to trust, a solid family life.

The older I get, the longer I do this, the more staggered I am by the depths of the very profound damage that has been done to these children.

Thankfully my children eventually landed in a family, I think about the millions worldwide who will not grow up with a parent, how their anger, their trepidation, and their losses will never be addressed, nor dealt with, thus inadvertently contributing to societal ills forever.

I think about all the negative energy that is poured into crime, materialism, boredom, envy, substance abuse, ETC and I contemplate in my over-active mind...what if everyone in the world (that is capable) just used 10% of their resources, their time, energy and finances to help someone else...would that do it? Would that just be a dent? Would it save even a couple of other children? Prevent a death, a jail sentence, or provide for someone's college?

What about health issues? Clean water? Vaccinations for children? Food?

What would it take?

Is my coffee buzz making me over-wrought this morning?

Joe's Birthday

We must have spent six hours total in the pool today. Fabian picked up Yolie running full speed, and slung her into the pool; she retaliated by knocking Sergi into next week, fully clothed, into the baby end. On and on, Vanessa got Joey, Sonny got everyone, Alyssa spent the most time in the pool, and will probably need 20 hours of sleep to recover.

Fabian and I butted heads for a couple of tense minutes today, my blood pressure skyrocketed, and I stomped off to pray to myself that his anger would be replaced by remorse, and within 20 minutes of me fuming, smoke coming out of both ears, Fabian came to my side of the pool and apologized.

Fabian and Joe went to lift weights what with Joe getting old and all that now.

What I'm Reading

I have read several books by Edward Humes over the last few years. An excellent writer and I am, of course, always attempting to understand the WHYS of every situation.

Juvenile Justice is something I've been thrown into lately by my angry teens.

Sharon's Book

Another adoption book referred by Sharon that I'd like to find time to read.

A Suggestion

In reading emails I am often struck by the fact that all of us are bumfuddled by our children's behaviors and issues.

If I can offer any suggestion, I'd tell all adoptive parents, particularly those of us who are blessed by medicaid, to get a psychological evaluation on each and every one of our children.

A neuro-psych is even better, we just don't know what all we are dealing with in children who've come from the system.

It's nearly a given that most, if not all, birth parents, who lose custody of their children, lose that custody due to alcohol or drug abuse, which are also contributing factors in abuse and neglect. Duh.

I'd venture to say that all my adopted children were exposed to the devastating effects of alcohol in utero to some degree.

Maybe I'm just a control freak, but I need to know IQs, the abilities that my children may, or may not have, plus the disabilities in order to garner them all the outside help and resources that they may need.

I'm also slowly coming to the realization that even the not-acting-out kids also benefit from the knowledge and understanding that can result from a psych evals.

Grey Hair and All

Sarah's trying to return her hair color closer to its natural shade, while I'm trying to get an appointment to blonde up my grey hair. My hair should be as black as my eyebrows but, hey, I'm 52 next month. My hair may be giving up its youthful color, but I'll tell you the truth...I feel strong as an ox, better for all the years that have piled up behind me, and very, very energized to face the next 52 years.

Edgar thinks he's king of the world at 19, and I wouldn't go back to those years of uncertainty, angst, or lack of focus for all the non-grey hair in the world. It's so much better to be older, even more opinionated, over-confident and retired from the school system.

Joe hooted at Sarah, "Oooooohhhhhh, Sarah's gone Mexican on us," when he saw her darker hair color, she got Edgar's seal of approval and, of course, her little son, Ray, didn't even notice her at all as he was intent on the pool activities.

I go to the beauty parlor every 3 months, first day, or thereabouts, of each season so I can remember how long since I last went. Like my black roots don't give myself away?

I had me a little hissy fit last night with the Bubbas who seem to crap up the house on a minute by minute basis. Coming in at dark from weeding, I'd already cleaned the kitchen after supper, I simply couldn't believe how messed up it was again so fast. Sitting their little butts on the sofas in the family room, I gave them all a talking to about helping this ole lady out around the house,. Edgar'd gone to pick up the middle and high school kids from Wednesday night youth group, they filed in to see the Bubbas wide-eyed with excitement over chores. "What's wrong with y'all?" they were asked.

Vanessa continues her improved personality, and trust in our family, while Fabian's deteriorates. I gotta drag out the figurative umbilical cord and re-attach Fabian in a positive manner. he spent most of yesterday with a deputy befriending him, I'm curious to see how his attitude readjustment is progressing as I'm gonna be in his face today also. Like an immature, troubled 14 year old is going to have a say in his upbringing? I don't think so, I think he needs to relearn some early childhood developmental milestones.

Joey wanted to be a butthead late last night so I sent him into my office, the pantry, and pointed out that I felt he was acting up because I put a picture of us hugging on my blog. He busted out laughing over that, easing a tense moment and Vanessa busted in the door obnoxiously screeching at him, "I WANT a hug, Joey, I feel left out," and tackling him up against the shelves, thoroughly defusing any tension between anyone within 20 miles of us. Miriam and I earlier had a private discussion in the pantry which had alerted Edgar, sure we were talking about him, and causing both he and Vanessa to hover nervously close to the pantry in futile attempts to overhear conversations. All Vanessa got was an earful of Joey.

Alyssa's daddy, Big Joe, turns 23 today. When he was 13, I doubted I'd survive the next 10 years with him, but I did. That encourages me to hang in there with Fabian and Joey...

My 14 Year Olds - But Hugging Joey Instead

Julie commented today that she was praying for my 14 years old, I know Nancy in Iowa is also praying. They sure must have been doing so, as Fabian wanted to buck up against me again today, told me to go ahead and call the police, he just didn't care. Well I'm gonna make him care about himself.

I got in his face, shaking my finger at him, I was fairly forceful as I knew Big Joe (23), Sergi (24), Sonny (19), Joey (17), and Edgar (19) would back me up if needed.

Fabian backed down, we all went to the pool, and Big Joe went slap back to Bubbaville. He's gonna be some kind of wore out and sore tomorrow, picking Sergi up and tossing him into the pool, wrestling with everyone else in sight, while his daughter, Alyssa, kept yelling at him.

I also pray often, under my breath, during the day...a nice alternative to cussing I suppose as i become exasperated and frustrated on an hourly basis.

Three hours of rough horseplay cooled everyone off. Joey, fresh from a talking down to by his probation officer, also wanted to be bad but I got in his face, made him go outside and weedeat before he could swim, and he's calmer now.

Fabian's aggression was tempered by the fact that Big Joe is HUGE, and Fabian simply could not make any headway in wrestling against him.

The deputy that helped us out so much two days ago, came by and took Fabian off for an afternoon of more talking to...have at it, we need all the help we can get.

To Amanda...this getting an apology has taken years of me demanding this accountability, and Fabian's intelligence is so questionable as to have spurred me to subject him to a great deal of testing. I dearly commiserate with you as you may, quite likely, have two Fabians on your hands.

And to Kerri who mentioned, "You assure me we will survive, they will learn to deal with the garbage of their past, and GOD is in control!" None of us, you, me other adoptive and foster moms, may be able to even feed ourselves after all this, using a spoon may escape me by then, but survival is available I believe.

Trouble, Sweetness and A Future

It's not just my grandchildren that provide the sweetness in my life, sometimes we have days and days of everyone getting along, time when I can't believe how blessed I am, and what a great life I have carved out for myself. Which reminds me, I still have all our knives hidden from the other night...hard to cut any cheese with just a butter knife.

Often this lull in the action occurs after explosive events, when children were physically and emotionally unable to maintain any sort of control over themselves..in the aftermath they are anxious. "Does Mom still love me? Will she quit on me? Be long gone?"

These questions are never asked out loud, but are lived out loud through clingy, edgy and hawk-eyed children. I use the term 'children' loosely as the grown kids from last week's episode have also called to touch base and to explain, justify and rationalize the events of that night.

After several meetings yesterday I bemoaned to Yolie that I now have four kids in trouble with the law. That disturbs me, but I adopted troubled kids from the system, not foreign exchange students from Harvard.

The sib groups that I adopted, over the years, were sib groups with no other appropriate homestudies sent in other than mine. If there were sib groups with a great number of interested, appropriate homestudies waiting to be read, I'd never add mine to the pile. This wasn't a competition, this was about me parenting kids who needed me as their mom, not the winner of the waiting parents contest. Several of my sibling groups came to me after disrupting from other adoptive situations.

Yesterday Teresa, not having reduced her stealing habits by even a fraction, received a 1-2 punch from mental health professionals and from the Department of Juvenile Justice. The probation officer had devised a contract that rivaled any safety plan I'd ever seen by DFACS. Miss Kim had covered all her bases plus one. Firm, stern, professional and unmoved by bullcrap excuses, Teresa has met her match here.

Miss Kim then had to move on to Fabian, and point out the obvious that threatening to stab family members, and being charged with that as a terroristic threat is a felony. Bruising one's mother is assault, son you're in deep trouble. Bam, Bam, Bam...all Fabian's emotional defenses visibly slammed shut, his fists clenched, and his body tightened up like a metal cord.

He slammed out of the room, but calmed down somewhat later in order to blame me for all this. Had I not called the police then he wouldn't be in trouble. What? I don't think so darling, had you not touched me in anger, had you not tried to fistfight with Joey, and/or not threatened to kill us all, I would not have had to call the police. Cause and effect thinking, a higher order thought process, is necessary here. Fabian had fussed that morning in church, wanting to sit next to me, but Edgar and Joey had already claimed both sides...I'm not a four sided cube, we'd even had small prayer groups in the sanctuary and I'd prayed aloud over my kids, for God's blessings and emotional healing. One might say then guess God didn't listen, but my faith tells me otherwise. This is a process...a very, very long process.

Yesterday's meetings took all morning, the repercussions lasted into the night, but quietly so, as I have a rather shaken-up Fabian and Teresa, both 14, too young to be this criminally involved. Let's learn to make good choices in life.

Edgar and Vanessa got into a 'who does Mama love the most' as they both requested different supper menus, Edgar's choice won as it required less prep time and I was out of time after all the above. Our pool is now a salt-water pool and Edgar's spent a month working on this, stepping up to the plate, crowing about being the man of the house while struggling to learn to do all that Daniel has always done around here.

Daniel is going to Omaha for the College World Series, looking for a fourth person to help share expenses. I immediately volunteered to be the fourth, but he snickered at me reminding me of the 39 reasons I can't go with him. He'd been sending me Verizon pictures from the UGA games, I couldn't even get across town for that excitement, much less across the U.S.

It was nice getting a comment yesterday from Adele's brother, John, knowing he prays for us is mind-blowing, knowing the battles he's fighting. He's been in our prayers also. Yesterday I'd hollered at supper, something to the point of exasperation in that, "what'd I do to deserve this?' as yet another plate shattered, milk was spilt, and three kids went to time-out during dinner. Reading Adele's post I am reminded why I go through so much.

Emails that I receive often require me to wait before I answer them, as I have only experience, no expertise, and I want to carefully consider what I write. I'm hearing from people either having trouble with their kids or somewhere in the adoption process...therefore trouble is coming in some form or another.

Audrey mentioned she always had something to blog about, this I can relate to as well as I have to decide which thing to blog about, blogging about 10% maybe of our misadventures, this is a 24-7 life event here, I can sit down each morning and put my thoughts quickly on paper, then go on with my day, mentally trying to process everything, while planning ahead, and tending to everyone's needs, issues and dreams, plans, and futures.

And yes, Audrey, you do need to come see me for a pep talk, I miss you also.

Today Vanessa, Miriam, Yolie and I are going to babysit Alyssa, Alexander and Ray while their moms tend to different appointments, this also gives us the bonus of CJ here with his smiling self. I've got to get Joey over to his probation officer appointment plus schedule Miriam's senior pictures, a haircut for me, and decide what to do about Fabian's gymnastic camp next week...should I risk it? It is FCA, how could we go wrong? Oh yeah, that was church camp last week where he got into trouble...someone is extremely intent on limiting his options. Testing me, Remedial Adoption 98 class in action, boy, you met your match here with a hard head like me. You may as well just give it up.