My Little Arena

A friend and I, an experienced, educated, baptised-by-fire caseworker who is also the owner/director of an adoption agency...I give all her credentials here simply to say...we talked, we've talked for decades, and there seem to be no answers to the many facets, issues, problems and experiences in adoption.

She has nearly 30 years experience in the field and she's an adoptive mom to 6 children. I have 20 years experience as an adoptive mom, 25 years in the public school system and 33 years experience as a mother...yet I have WAY more questions and curiosities now than I did as a young adult.

I even question regular schooling for traumatized children...is it possible? Feasible? Or are we just further frustrating an already deeply troubled psyche?

The IFI therapist, also an older (my age), ultra-experienced woman...very able to pinpoint the issue, but like everyone else, struggling to find the solution to these issues.

I don't know what I'd do without my daughter, Yolie. Educated, experienced, a veteran of foster care life and abuse and neglect...somehow she is unharmed (healed) enough to still be able to hold my hand and guide me through my children's issues...help me to see what's really going on, keeping me loving them through the hatred and explosive behaviors that they present and direct at me.

The therapist in Atlanta pointed out that they do not "label" children in their facility, rather they work with the "presenting symptoms" which obviously indicates which mental illness is evident, and I've thought long and hard this week over all she explained to me. I even asked her how old was she, very wise eyes and super knowledgeable words coming from an unlined face. Just 29, but she'd worked in this facility long enough to become extremely perceptive.

I've talked and listened to Dr G for many, many years, his perception of our family is fascinating; he walks the line between hearing my explanations and what the children tell him; they've all seemed to respond to him, not necessarily changing their behavior immediately (like Joey) but knowing from another source, besides Mama, what is proper, normal behavior. I don't stay in the room, when he and the kids talk, I have tremendous confidence in his abilities. The kids need this non-Mama option...this professional confidant.

Suppose there are no answers? Suppose I just have to keep fruitlessly searching for answers and remedies? Try this, discard that, brag about this and bemoan that?

It's kinda like faith, where I'm believing in what I don't see, trusting God to hold my hand and see me through. Deeply trusting obviously. Thinking all day about a very profound comment yesterday from Nancy.

It's not necessarily that there ARE answers to my children's pain, that may not be my job, maybe I am just called to continue loving and supporting them through their very many difficulties. God gave me the deep ability to love them, even when they hate me back for loving them. No, it's not easy, I've certainly demonstrated the difficulties, I've addressed how tough this is on a daily basis.

Society has deep problems everywhere, this is simply my little arena...

Prayer Request

I don't have anyone's permission yet to share anything, but there's a family in Idaho that needs all our prayers right now, that God's will would be done, and for strength to survive a profound and painfully deep loss.

Thanks y'all for lifting this family up.

A Sweet Day

I've had the sweetest day. Yolie and CJ brought me my favorite Krispy Kreme donuts, and something special for Sarah (more on this later in this post), Carolina brought Tommy, Sarah brought Ray, and my friend, Emily came with her darling grandbaby and some words of wisdom she'd learned from hearing Greg Keck speak.

He simply says, "it's not about us, the parents. It's the children and their issues, we need to know that.

Teresa's IFI therapist, who I so respect, Miss Pat, brought me compliments from town that she'd heard about our family...which I really needed to hear, I needed the ego boost in a big way.

CW brought me home an essay he'd written today in school and he let me put it here, Sarah cried because she was so touched by his words to me (more on this later in this post).

My Number One Best Hero By CW

My hero is my mom, she is my hero in many different ways. She can cook awesomely and she is an awesome mom. She helps me with my problems. My #1 best-most wonderful hero is my super awesome MOM. One reason she is my hero is because she can cook the best foods and yes they are delectible (sp). She is also my #1 best hero because whenever I'm in trouble and need help she swoops down like a hawk to save her babies from a predator. One of the best reasons is that whenever I have a prblem she always helps me get over it and to feel better about things that might harm or hurt me when I am away from here. The Number 1 best thing is that she is never mean or bad to me. She will always love me and she will never not take care of me. She helps me get smarter in school. That is why she is the best to me. Most importantly she loves me and she will always take care of me. All of that is why she is my greatest of all time #1 best most awesome hero of my life.

Wow, I needed that. Chuy, Mr. Standoffish says he's getting closer to telling me he loves me, I've been waiting for five years so far. He agrees that he does, but won't say those words to me.

Sarah wiped her tears and her mouth from Yolie's leftover sub sandwich, called her husband for MORE FOOD because, Praise God, she is two months pregnant. Such sweet news to me.

um...........

After my meltdown the other day, pure T anger over ugliness to me that I can usually handle with some grace, I'm trying to get my good mood back.

My schedule today is easier than yesterday, I slept halfway decent, but have been up stewing since 5. I'm trying to pray it through but I just don't understand on what planet it is ever OK to figuratively go poop on other people? Yes I'll forgive, of course, but it's hard to maintain a decent relationship anymore under these conditions.

My mom, shocked and hurt as well, "I don't know how you do it Cindy. I'm worried about your health."

My health is fine, thanks to good eating and a strong constitution, but stress is stress and I don't need this level of it.

I woke up to 37 degrees and realized I'd left the greenhouse door open overnight with 6 trays of seed flats out there. So now I'm mad at me.

It'll be in the low 70s today so I can go out front and finish the new bed that Sonny had pickaxed for me. He went with me to Atlanta yesterday, just to keep me company, so sweet and helpful.

Get Back On The Horse Big Mama...

Cooking supper, washing loads of laundry, cleaning up...everything I didn't get done today since I'd had to go to Atlanta, but it was a fruitful visit...I'm trying to pump myself back up to where I can see a glimpse of Pollyanna. Vanessa picked daphne, hyacinths, amaryllis, camellias and the last of the daffodils, and made pictures for me to use, 62 in all, posing the flowers all over the yard.

Her efforts did cheer me up a great deal, we made a huge Brownie cake for Martin's 13th birthday, another big deal as they don't come any sweeter than him.

Maybe I'll Quit...

I've spent the last 20 years in therapeutic interventions and situations with my children. Dr. G is at our house on Fridays, he has a great handle on our family dynamics.

I used to be normal before I had traumatized children. I was a middle-class, Preacher's kid, a school teacher with several college degrees and many years normal parenting experience. I had a straight A kid who loved me. She still loves me, even after all this...

I hope, and I apologize in advance, if I've given the impression that my older children have turned out perfectly. In reality, they've been incredibly ugly and hateful to me over the years, lashing out at me, blaming me for stuff that happened years before I met them; screaming at me, hating me totally, making me rue the day I ever thought I could make a difference.

Most have succeeded greatly, made me very proud, but not always.

I talked with an excellent therapist today about these behaviors. She confirmed and validated what my mother had also told me the night before. I've given my children the tools they need in order to be successful, but if they won't open their toolbox and use them, then there's nothing I can do about it.

She also advised me to "expect nothing in return". She's very right. I don't expect gratitude nor appreciation at all; I'd just like to expect no venom, no vitriol and no vindictiveness as I alliterate all over the place. Or just less of the above?

At what point should I just write them off? Cut my losses? Stop them from being verbally abusive, hateful and ugly to me? Should I allow them to emotionally destroy me with their rages and insults? How much can one scrawny ole woman take?

I've lived sacrificially, given everything I have 24-7...and more. Loved them through their hatred of me.

Maybe some children are simply unreachable?

Maybe I should just give up and let them hate me for what others did to them? I've been absorbing all their anger and now I weigh nothing and I had a tumor. Maybe I should emotionally pull out? Only respond to those who still physically, emotionally and spiritually need me?

Maybe it would just be easier...

My Farmer Tan

Cristy came by and picked up Lily, Jack and CW yesterday afternoon leaving me at home with only Tony, Tabby, Teresa, Allen, JoJo, Chuy, Paloma, Nando, Scotty and Jonathan. They wandered through the house like they were the last souls on a strange planet, missing the mother ship back to earth.

I worked outside turning over the new ground around the greenhouse until I thought either my back would break, or the spading fork would do so, wishing I had sunscreen, it's been a week of skin damage, but no farmer/gardener looks good after 30 plus years squinting in the sun with a T shirt tan. Oh well, it's worth it.

Tabby is now unhinged over waking up a second day without Memaw here, the kids who've been gone will be at church this morning, exhausted and happy, they'll sleep the rest of the day.

I'm happily noticing the drama-less blog I'm writing nowadays. Compared to this time last year...honey it's like I'm on vacation now or something, I should go visit Joey today in jail, probably I will do so

Should Be Quiet

Seven kids gone all weekend with the church youth group, Discipleship Now, doing service projects around the community and having Bible study. I, of course and sadly, can't allow Teresa to go due to her probation rules and theft charges, she'd be so unable to resist the temptation to steal as they are spending the night at other people's houses. I did allow Jose to go, knowing if he had an issue, they are not far away, I could run get him if need be.

Leftovers sufficed for supper, Miriam, Sergi, Sonny and Edgar weren't here either, only 13 kids rattling around in the house. How odd, how weird for us.

Why is there still so much laundry? The kitchen looks trashed and there's an awful lot of noise for so few people.

I came downstairs at 5:30, heads popping out of rooms up and down the hallways, uneasy without the rest of the kids, radars up, Tabby'll fuss all day with Sabrina gone, and Nando will act all nervous. They won't see the other kids until church service tomorrow.

Army, Wilderness, etc

Warm weather drawing me outside and I'm merely blogging in my head; not getting it put down on paper, forgetting it all as my mind fills up with garden plans. The temperature hit the magical 70 degree mark yesterday, I almost finished weeding one of the front gardens, got some wood chips put around the plants, but the super hero was, hands down...Sonny.

After we'd all gone to bed Wednesday night, he couldn't sleep so he worked until the brick path was finished, surprising me and all the kids in such a great way. He's so industrious, can't stand to sit still, has projects on his mind constantly, and last night, after dark, he had all the Bubbas out there moving all the stones that we've squirreled away for a couple of years, he drew out several different designs for a patio area around the greenhouse, all of which I marveled at, "You choose, Sonny, this is something we'll tell your kids about later."

We all again went to bed, Sonny still outside with the lights blazing.

Daniel called me last night, great to hear from him, the army frustrating him, of course, since he's so pro-active in all areas of his life, and he's held down by slower performers surrounding him, the entire battalion losing privileges as a result, they had to write the chain of command 40 times. Insulting to a man like Daniel, yet he'll do it, a team player to the end.

Fabian called as well, doing right good at the wilderness program, and I super expected him to do so, I simply feel it is so up his emotional alley, physical work does him good.

Tabby's Family Friends

After playing with Ray, CJ and Alexander all week, Tabby's first question to me had been, "Are any of the babies coming over?"

"Who knows, child?" I responded, getting busy with my day, wishing I'd had more sleep.

Monica and Dewayne ended up bringing Courtney, the one closest to Tabby's age, over for the afternoon and evening, as did Deysi with Alexander; making Tabby happy and bossy. I'd fortuitously cooked up a ton of ABC pasta, barley and corn stew; Vanessa made a large skillet of cornbread which the kids douse with hot sauce. Very little leftovers, Deysi took them for lunch today, so Vanessa made a smaller pasta dish to send with Deysi for her husband, Carlos. Industrious or what? That beautiful girl, Vanessa, continues to amaze me, joking about her Viper Girl nickname, "Just wait til PMS next week," she warned us all.

Edgar and I unfurled our snippy differences later in the evening, this pushpull routine once again; I ignore, he escalates, yada yada yada; he went for a run to cool off, called me an hour later as he'd jogged about four miles away and his legs cramped up, "Can you come get me?" knowing I would, and he crawled in the van muttering about being too old nowadays as his 20th birthday looms next month.

Daniel, used to being over-mothered by both Yolie and I, complained in a letter to her of his bad cough, he's not being given vitamins nor my ultra nutritious dinners, and it's wearing him down somewhat there in the army. He's so internally, emotionally strong that I know he'll be fine.

Sonny is ate up, as we ungrammatically refer to an obsession, by the brickwork and stones we're using in, and around, the greenhouse; fashioning a walk from the front door to the greenhouse, a surrounding garden bed and a patio. Yesterday on his day off, he was impatiently waiting for the rain to cease, Nando roaring to go, sure that Sonny is his hero, he's mine lately; he loves to put his ideas into action and does a great job; prompting Edgar to ruminate over his own living minute-to-minute philosophy versus Sonny's thinking and planning what he's gonna do each day. Hmmm Edgar, we call that maturity on Sonny's part.

Vanessa's Sweetness Continued

Is Vanessa the star of our show or what? She's obviously often in possession of the camera.

I'm just happy that she's happy, glad that she's become so successful because I know how tough my life could be if she were deep in rebellion. Instead she is loving and helpful, doing well in school, headed off to a discipleship weekend with the youth group, this time last year she was fist-fighting in school and raging at home. I am most grateful for her turnaround.

Pictured here with Tameshia, Alyssa's mama, Vanessa has emotionally drawn close to so many family members, somehow losing her fear of allowing herself to trust. Other than prayer and commitment, I don't exactly have an explanation. But just as Edgar became clingier at age 18, so it also is with Miriam right now. She'll graduate this spring from high school, and I'm helping her make plans that don't include leaving us. She has that choice, but she also has a very deep need to know that I won't put her out. Six and a half years with a mama isn't enough.

In answer to Dee, I'm digging up the greenhouse floor as a season extender. Earlier tomatoes and peppers, later greens throughout the winter.

Up at 4 this morning, thinking about my projects, the only thing I don't like about getting older is this inability to sleep.

Taking All My Time

Warm weather, this little greenhouse, my hens and my gardens are calling me outside, leaving me little time to pound on the keyboard. My grandbabies are loving it, the Bubbas are crowding me out there.

I know nothing as to how this unheated greenhouse will fare or function. Learning as I go, experimenting, digging out the floor, and Sonny's halfway finished laying a gorgeous brick path for me, today I planted some tomatoes in the ground out there. If I lose them, so what? I have 200 seedlings each already large and ready to go.

I've divided the floor area into quadrants, tomorrow I'm planting the peppers and some lettuce; the rest of the lettuce outside though.

Being There For Others

There are times when my children have been known to lay aside their issues, and totally focus on someone else and the connecting circumstances. This picture has nothing to do with this post, I load what's in the camera some mornings.

Last night I took Jonathan, Blanca, Paloma, Lily, Martin, Tony, CW and Mayra to the funeral home for the prayer service and visitation for Ms. Carr's father. Filled with trepidation, yet honored to be a part of Ms. Carr's life, they were full of questions on the ride over there, more so on the way home.

I'd stressed they just needed to concentrate on behaving, watch what the other people are doing, and don't pick scuffles with each other. We're from a rip roaring, rowdily happy Church of God background, I was more than a little concerned as to how they'd behave during a quiet prayer service led by a priest.

But they were awesome, perfectly well-behaved, CW and Martin taking up posts to pass out the readings; and more than a little subdued, Lily and Tony shared a seat, as did Paloma and Blanca, needing the comfort of each other, keeping an eagle eye on Ms. Carr, and when it was over, they quietly went to a table of pictures to look carefully and store up questions.

An open casket did not deter them, they hovered around Ms. Carr, and acted, en masse, as if they were auditioning for the part of Extremely Well-Adjusted Children. I couldn't praise them enough on the ride home, as they all went into questions over an area Miss Lisa had covered during Children's Church, made alive by their experiences this evening. Arriving home, they'd immediately went to the other kids to fill them in.

Allen had backed out, somewhat fearfully, before we'd left to go, I didn't push him, nor anyone, to come with us as I felt they knew their own capacities for dealing with this, Allen is over-emotional on a regular day, this had seemed to over-whelming for him, and I'd not allowed Tabby, Nando, Scotty or Jack to come although they'd clamored to do so, "Nope, only kids in Ms. Carr's class at one time or another, or older," which is how I ended up with the ones that went with me.

After everyone went to bed, I could hear quiet talking in their rooms, I waited for the settling down time when Chuy and Jonathan came to me to ask if they could attend the funeral service also. Maybe so for Jonathan, he's in Ms Carr's class and it's not likely he'll concentrate well without her tomorrow, Chuy's his birth brother and confidant, but Mr. Gifted needs to go to school.

Great Weather..Gone Fishing

Got three grandbabies running around, CJ, Ray, and Alexander, and all the kids home from school for the last day of Winter Break.

Our weather is breaking, gonna be a warm week, I'm getting my greenhouse the way I want it to be, I'm burning daylight right now, gotta get outside...

People Are Hungry

Our little country church is packed, every seat full, ushers dragging more out each Sunday morning, two services, and our ladies class has 51 on role. People are hungry for meaning in their lives, many have found it through church involvement, I know I have certainly done so.

I was the one writing the praises and the prayer requests on the board this morning, thrilled at Cindy Adam's great report from her surgery, as were the women in my class who'd prayed for her.

This morning we lifted Ms. Carr up in prayer, two of us have children in her class, she's taught many other kids in our church, and in my family as well.

I saw my sweet son Edgar, lifting up some toddler to the water fountain, always parentified, he saw a need, and jumped to it. I'd already had to apologize to him for snapping at him wrongly early this morning, I thought he'd stayed out all night, but he'd gotten up and driven Miriam to work so I wouldn't have to do so, letting me sleep until 6:30. Her car's gotta go in the shop, running hot...oops. If I'm wrong, I'll say I'm wrong.

Gotta get to Sonny's ballgame right now.

Let There Be Light

Sonny cracked, "You don't weigh enough to drive the shovel into the ground," in regards to digging up the greenhouse floor, so he and the Bubbas went out in the morning. He flipped the ground, they yanked up the dirt clods and tossed out the bermuda grass roots, it was 29 degrees, yet Sonny took off his shirt, and opened the windows to the greenhouse, it registered 55 in there.

I went to town later to question a nursery manager about his own unheated greenhouse, his was so big it was only enclosed on three sides, the other side was a breezeway between his store and the covered area. I swanny, if I'd have known how much fun this was, and how cheaply I could do it, I'd have started making payments on it decades ago.

Nando, Mr. Curious, was with me and absorbing all the information, running from plant to plant there, noticing the ones he's watched me grow. Jack and CW, distracted by a tom cat that seems to run the nursery, he's always sprawled out there, waiting on kids to scratch his belly.

My friend, Emily, came over with a son and a grandsonson, not a typo but an explanation, thrilling Tabby with yet another baby to be with, me getting to talk to an adult.

Last night, Sabrina told me, "Mama look out front, your greenhouse is glowing," as I was then neck deep in washing pots and pans. Sonny had run one of those long orange extension cords out there and was grinning happily. He's already worked a full day at the pizza place but he told me he'd been thinking all day about putting a light bulb out there.

His best quote in my whole life was one day when he told me, "Mama, everyone's gotta do something," when I remarked on how industrious he seemed to be at all times.

We'd peeled 30 pounds of potatoes, thin sliced them with garlic and hot pepper spices, brushed the cookie sheets with olve oil and made our own toasted potato chips. Big Joe and Alyssa came to spend the day with us, I'd forgotten how good Joe was in the kitchen, and he's emotionally close to Vanessa, they had a great time with the potatoes, leaving me a mountain of a mess to clean up.

I'm sad to say that Ms. Carr's father passed away, I told the kids as they'd been praying for him to get better, their first concern was, of course, over Ms. Carr, their personal family hero and friend. I could see their minds churning and digesting this news, coming back to me all evening with questions. I know that today in Children's Church, their prayer requests will be for her today, to be able to get through this difficult time.

Thanks, Bonnie!

This is soooo cool.

Signs of Spring

What's not to like about our just-around-the-corner springtime? It'll be mid-sixties next week, I got some chicken wire from freecycle, some reluctant hens are fixing to get penned up so that I can plant peas, lettuce, radishes, onions and spinach and the Atlanta Braves are hard at work, at least the pitchers and catchers are there.

Getting Through Our Cold Snap

At least this abadoned baby's story ends up safely, not so for this baby.

18 month old Alexander stayed with us yesterday, the kids were home for Winter Break, and Alexander played himself into exhaustion, hard to keep up with a thundering herd of Bubbas.

The outdoor temperature only made it to 40, should be our average high of mid-fifties, but my unheated, yet obviously passive solar greenhouse read 82 degrees. So I'm dragging the tomatoes in each night, probably until next week. I had 100% success with all my seeds, so I'm dividing each set and doubling my count.

Thankfully Medicaid pays for glasses as Chuy, Vanessa and Javy all needed new ones.

Coming back from the eye doctor's office, we passed the sheriff's work detail picking up litter by the side of the road. There was Joey. How sad is this? That such poor choices, despite a dozen years of intensive therapy, several serious residential placements, plus time in a family that loved him, that he'd end up like this? But I, of course, still have hopes for his future.

Carolina keeps improving, and Grandma spent all day cooking turkey, dressing, rice and gravy plus side dishes to take over there. Carolina's husband, Jose, has always been particularly delighted with my mom's holiday meals so she made them a special one as we're all trying to keep Carolina off her feet.

My latest prayer request involves a family in Florida, right now in the midst of non-related six older children they are trying to adopt from Ethiopia, prayers that the adoption would go smoothly.

My Boys

Us Georgians are so not used to very cold weather. We've had a couple of days with 20 degree nights, to us that is a brutal winter. Daniel wrote me a letter, leaving his warm Army cot for a few days outside, for field maneuvers, and Fabian also called me last night, sounding happy for the first time in a long time, telling me about the cold North Georgia mountain he's living on. Contrast this with Joey calling me twice last night from a warm jail cell. But his wise P.O. told the jailers to put Joey on work detail, smart move, make him get up early each morning and work hard.

All three guys homesick, yet Daniel was the only one who was away from us properly. He's writing surprisingly long, detailed, and funny letters, telling me yesterday that he wavers between being way too busy to even think, versus some long times of "freaking" standing in formation, deeply longing for home. I hate that F word too and am constantly correcting the little kids about it.

Joey was questioning everything from yesterday, as if he was too stunned in court to fully comprehend it all. In reality, it was the cause and effect part of his behavior that he never seems to fully understand. I re-detailed everything for him once again.

Sonny had a late basketball game last night, and Gito, Mayra, Martin, Jack and I went to watch; I believe he still has several more games this season.

This morning I'm taking Vanessa, Javy and Chuy for eye doctor appointments and then I'll bemoan yet another greenhouse flub I perpetuated yesterday. I put one tomato seedling in it overnight, what will 20 degree temperature do in an enclosed, covered space, I'd wondered? Duh, it'll freeze, Big Mama. One hen, refusing for three days to leave the hothouse, looking angrily at me, perturbed that the water bucket froze also. What latitude is this?

I'd written to Daniel, telling him about my greenhouse, and my feelings of missing him when I'd bought it, this was so his domain when he lived here. CJ, totally obsessed with my wack-wacks as he calls my birds, reminding Yolie and I of Daniel. The first night we'd ever built an enclosure, Daniel was maybe 8 years old, he'd fallen asleep with a hen in his arms, slumped behind a bale of hay, happy as a clam, after his shower and wearing his long underwear pjs. Can you tell I have a hard time letting go of my kids? I hate it when they grow up and go away, I miss them so much. I really hate being unable to call Daniel a hundred times a day.

Fabian and Joey know I'm still there for them, this is forever; someday they'll truly allow themselves to believe that they are lovable. Daniel is so strong in his emotional security that this is a no-brainer for him. He knows I love him and knows I miss him.

Even Edgar, hovering like my own personal helicopter, a month shy of his 20th birthday, running errands with Miriam last night, coming up to my room around 10, checking in, before settling down to look at cars on the computer. Yep, Mama's still here.

Needing His Mama

Not done blogging but a minute before Joey, using the inmate collect calling system was on the phone to me.

"Do you want me to explain it all to you?" I asked.

"Yes M'am."

So I did; cause and effect, natural consequences, and here's what you need to do now to get through this.

"And stop listening to stupid inmates and only pay attention to the guards. Remember which side is locked up, son. It's not the guards. And, yes, I still love you."

Joey's Probation Revocation Hearing

Court went as expected, sorta. Vanessa punked out, didn't want to go at the last minute, and truly, I'm not sure it made any impression on Teresa at all. She had that look on her face, curious that all these police officers had arrested people for anything.

Sonny put on a dress shirt and a tie and accompanied me. It was in the next county over and compared to our small county, it's the big time...our version anyway. Scary looking convicts next to chubby-tubby, baby-faced Joey, grinning like Alfred E. Newman.

Sonny has managed to not get into a bit of trouble with the law, he's made me proud. He struggled through school, but overall didn't get into that much trouble there either.

Joey shuffled in the courtroom in leg irons, handcuffs, a chain around his waist, and my eyes bugged out so bad when he stood before the judge, busting slack, half his rear end hanging out. The Athens Probation Officer left her seat to come to me and ask, "what's wrong?" when she saw me nearly hit the ceiling over his butt situation.

Our county's P.O. detailed these last 10 months of Joey refusing to comply with probation requirements, of the deputies being called to my house many times, and then about the homeless shelter's problems with him also. Their social worker said the shelter was so peaceful now without him, like our house is also. What next? The county jail will also rejoice when he leaves them?

The judge didn't swear me in, but did call me up front, asking about Joey's past, what I wanted for him now, and asking him basically, "What is wrong with you boy?"

He ended up getting 120 days in a Boot Camp, a step up from a diversion center, it will offer him an opportunity to get his GED, but there will be drill sergeants in his face, yelling at him, trying to teach him discipline. The judge admonished Joey, "If you hit a guard, you could end up in prison serving the rest of your 2-10 on the felony conviction."

The social worker from the homeless shelter told me they'd had to kick him out three times and had to call his Probation Officer as he was so often out-of-control, yelling at everyone that they couldn't tell him what to do. His Probation Officer related Joey's utter disrespect to her and about the court system. He's been known to yell, "I don't care!" when anyone explains consequences to him, today he wanted to snivel at the way the world treated him. Same kid who told me, "Jail is better than your stupid rules."

"I don't wanna stay in jail," he whined at the judge who quickly snapped at him, "You think you get a choice?"

"Boy, you are 18, you're an adult, yet your mom is still here. You have to get it together, and I'm ordering you to get and stay in therapy as a part of your Intensive Probation that you'll serve after Boot Camp, you'll have a curfew, searches and heavy supervision."

"He can be so lovable," stated the social worker afterwards and I agree with her, yet he can turn on a dime and act like the spawn of Satan. He still has such a long, long road ahead of him.

My Continued Amazement...and Appreciation

After all the stress, turmoil, raging, explosive, disruptive, anit-social, fighting, fury...there's a million different negative words to describe last year...I'm still amazed at how quiet and happy our house has been now for months, with more than two dozen people living here still.

Gito's Ebay Fun

Is this what being an old lady is? Waking up between 4 and 5 each morning, totally unable to sleep another minute? I came downstairs to drink coffee and read, talk to Edgar before he shoots outta here at 5...Little Radar Man Tony always popping out of his room to see who I'm chatting with. Ok, son, you think it's the paperboy with a deep voice or something? We don't even get the paper, that's what on-line is for.

Always relieved to see it's just Edgar, Tony goes back to his room to sleep.

I must be sleeping hard as rock when I do sleep, Edgar was grouching that I didn't answer my cell when he called me last night. Someone had locked the door, that's unheard of, none of us have keys to get in, me included, but he finally got Vanessa to let him in.

The kids are on Winter Break, no school until next Tuesday, and too cold to suit any of us.

I was subpoenaed to court today for Joey's probation violations, I'm taking Vanessa with me since she asked to go, and Teresa for a Learning Moment... one would hope. Joey is her birth brother and he'll be led into the courtroom in shackles and that pretty orange jumpsuit. Within one day, Teresa had stolen two radios and make-up from someone at school. She too is on probation but that matters nothing to her, she seems to think it must be an adult's exercise in futility.

"Why?" I'd dumbly beseeched.

A blank look back indicating I must really be a moron. I could read her mind, "Duh, because I wanted it." Looking at me like I was a clueless wonder. Reason enough for her to risk incarceration. RAD in action once again, the IFI team working on therapeutic intervention, just as frustrated as I am right now.

In his usual excellent example of attachment and devotion to our family, Sonny had the day off and hung out with me, helping me drag in groceries and haul off the trash; letting Nando ram the scooter into Sonny's big ole cowboy boots over and over. Sonny kept claiming he was 130 pounds. Yeah right, in 9th grade maybe, weighed himself and found he was 155, the mega-nachos are working, told ya so, Sonny was shocked.

Now that Javy all of a sudden grew huge, 145 pounds, tall and funny, he and Gito have formed an alliance; Gito's having more fun pretending to spend his birthday money on Ebay auctions, waiting for just the right moment to pounce on a Nintendo DS. They ran in last night after youth group jumped back onto Ebay, me hollering for them to factor in the shipping costs, but they're having way more fun in the thrill of the chase than in the actual purchase, I predict this'll go on until they return to school on Tuesday.

One More Day...

We had yet another warm day, but it's over now for a few days. I need to double dig the greenhouse floor and add manure today, I've taken care of babies for two days in a row, and have been unable to get out there and play.

Totally dumb idea on my part to get the hens to help, half of them on the outside banging to get in, the other half banging on the sides to get out, pooping on the shelves, not on the ground where I needed the fertilizer and unless you've heard a rooster, cock-a-doodle do in confined quarters personally, it's difficult to describe the decibel level.

CJ left here yesterday and excitedly went to his daddy's office trying to describe the racket at Bita's house.

Tommy, at 2 1/2, has never left his parent's side, unless he was playing here at my house yet, even here, they've never left him; he could always scamper in and find either his mom or his dad. Yesterday, after a night without Carolina, Tommy sobbed in my arms for nearly two hours. Finally he played outside with the other young'uns for the afternoon. Carolina called me late last night after being released from the hospital, now in remarkably good shape, Thank God,only in her sixth month of pregnancy, these last three months are going to take some work on everyone's part.

Our days and nights remain fairly free of stress lately, all the kids helping with chores, Sabrina baking a cake nearly every evening lately as Edgar's been craving cake and ice cream before bed, a thought I find nauseating. A sheet cake here lasts all of three seconds, max.

Gito's wrestling season was successful, but now it's over and he's fixing to sign up for church league softball. His big brothers, Jesse and Joe, used to play, lately it's been Edgar and Sonny, and it's also time to register for soccer again.

Gito, even with all the competition here, can burp like nobody's business, probably 72 syllables each time with no effort, impressing the Bubbas beyond belief, me too actually. Sonny needs to get out in the meadow and distract this belcher with some good pitching, make sure he's ready for the season.

Tomorrow, yes tomorrow, finally, after a long winter, the pitchers and the catchers report to Spring Training and I can have my annual daydream of when all the kids are grown, I'm heading to Orlando this time each year to watch it in person. One time Jesse cracked at me, "All you like on TV is Cops and baseball." Absolutely on target, what else is there?

I'm going to have to rig a little TV up out there in the greenhouse just for that reason, I don't even care about watching, if I can at least listen to the play by play announcers even if I'm upset over their shake-up over there. If only I ruled the world...

And our family's prayers lately include continued healing for my friend, Linda B, and also for Ms. Carr's father.

Carolina's Improvement

Blanca, pictured here, was terribly distraught last night about her mom; and we'd kept the details from her, but the worried undercurrent in my house is usually evident. We kept trying to distract her, CJ seemed to do the best job of cheering her up.

Very good news now, the hospital will likely release Carolina sometime tonight if she continues to respond so well to the treatment they are giving her. Tommy will stay with me and be distracted by Ray, Tabby, Nando and CJ; and the rest of Carolina's children will ride the bus home to my house. Fortunately all three of her children are in classes with my kids. My kids, though high-strung at best, are still a comforting presence to their nieces and nephews.

Pictured below are Jack and Mauri, in the same first grade class, Grandpa will help them both with their homework sheets this afternoon, and I'll just keep reassuring Mauri, Baby Yolie and Blanca that their mom will pick them up tonight after supper.

Some Good News

I haven't heard yet from Carolina this morning which is the good news. A call in the middle of the night would not have been good. Her husband came and got the kids late last night, and we made arrangements for how we'd handle different possibilities in the night; thankfully none of which occurred, I'll watch two year old Tommy today for them.

Cindy Adams came through surgery with the absolutely best possible outcome, she'd been faced with some tough news several months ago, yet she's been a fighter. Y'all's prayers meant the world.

And from the little girl Jillian, I heard, "... plan today is to start weaning her off the vent. Honestly, she is sedated because the vent is so uncomfortable. So once she is off the ventilator she should come off the meds and go HOME!! And there are more breathing sounds in her lungs almost each time Jodi checks!! The left lung now has some about half way down and the right lung was almost at full capacity yesterday when I left."

I went to bed fretting over everything last night but have awoken to a lot of good news.

My greenhouse obviously arrived, it was nearly 70 degrees, the kids were wiggling out of shoes, socks and shirts. Just a teaser for us though, it'll be in the 40s the rest of the week.

The kids came barreling up the hill from the school bus, full of plans and ideas to help me in the greenhouse, the pile of stones to the side are what Sonny's brought home to me for years as he's scrounges for good stuff also. We put about six hens and a rooster in the greenhouse yesterday to eat bugs, scratch up the dirt, and poop me out some fertilizer, a deluxe chicken tractor set-up this time.

Sonny had a church league basketball game at 8 last night but I had a houseful of grandchildren, plus all my kids, so Vanessa and Gito went to cheer him on.

Needing Prayers

Need some prayers for Carolina today. She's in the hospital, I have her kids here with me, and Yolie's been with her all day. We need to pray that she does not go into labor, that all will be well.

Blaming Me

I've spent nearly a week tring to come up with all the clothes required by the wilderness program for Fabian, he needed eight complete outfits, 7 sets of long underwear (had to go to four stores to find any at this time of year, spring clothes are out now, even at Wal-Mart), scrounged up two suitcases and am sending it off today via his Probation Officer who will transport him tomorrow.

I fell asleep by nine last night, exhausted from several nights of little sleep and the strain of negative emotions constantly dumped out on me, solidly asleep for an entire full minute before Fabian phoned and woke me up...hard to call that a good night's sleep.

Tethered to my grandbaby, Alexander, today, I'll get very little done, but I'll have fun hanging around with a one year old. It's going to be a warm afternoon so Yolie's bringing CJ over to play with Alexander, Tabby and Nando, a predicted high of 65.

I'd bought Jose new shoes yesterday as he poked his toes through the old ones. He then surprised me by having a complete chair-slinging meltdown. Raging that he wanted his old shoes, he stormed off while the rest of us were eating brownies and cake for Sabrina's birthday (Duh, like that was the real issue) and he came back an hour later to apologize for his outburst. "Thanks, Pepe, I appreciate that," I'd said to Jose, while directing the word 'appreciate' to Edgar's snotty side of the sofa.

I'd gotten fed up with Edgar's constant negativity and snapped at him earlier that evening, pointedly noticing that the 12 year old was man enough to apologize before the 19 year old.

I really get worn down, at times, from everyone's mis-directed crap. How much do they think I can absorb of their anger and pain? I suppose it is a back-handed compliment that their actions assume I can handle a tremendous amount of emotional dumping. I feel like an over-used, over-flowing gas station toilet at times. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be fit to go out in public and act normal after a couple of decades so far here amongst the trauma and the drama.

Someone needs to get a grip, doesn't she?

This is why I grow such a large series of gardens, so I can feel good about something in my life, something that doesn't blame me for their past, when I wasn't even there, not even in the same state.

Big Ole Javy

Sitting here like three truck drivers, they're drinking vegetable bouillon before bed last night, making jokes about Tabby who'll be an aunt to 15 nieces and nephews before she ever enters Pre-K.

My friend, Cindy Adams, allowed me to link her page, and I remain in prayer over her surgery tomorrow.

Edgar, Sonny, Jack, Vanessa and I knocked out grocery shopping for the week while my parents took Sabrina, Gito and Martin out to celebrate February birthdays.

Grandma's now taken Javy for a last minute physical exam at Doc-in-a-box as he has weight training coming up for football and soccer at school, deadline for physicals is tomorrow, so Grandma bailed me out time wise, thank goodness.

Javy,pictured in the middle, has suddenly gotten huge, he's only 12, but taller than I and outweighs me, strong an as ox, and fairly good-natured, I'm going to enjoy watching him play football for the next five years, and soccer is always a definite here.

Gito and Sonny are as excited as I am over my pseudo greenhouse hut that's coming. We laid out where we want in, moved the pile of rocks that we've been slowly using for walkways, and figured out how they're gonna be able to back the truck up to our specifications.

Another Prayer Request

Marcela in Kentucky sent this to me and I'm passing on the prayer request.

"Please pray for Jillian B. She is four years old. One of eleven children, biological and adopted, parented by Katie and Jeff. She is a pretty little blond haired blue eyed little sweety.

Yesterday her father took her to the ER because a "cold" was not getting better but worse. The first thought was pneumonia. That would have been a good diagnosis compared to what it is.

It is cancer. She has a football sized tumor in her chest and abdomon that is pressing on one lung to the point that it isn't working and also causing stress on her heart. it is inoperable due to it's size. The doctor's say that it has most likely only been there 4 to 6 WEEKS. Yes, it is that fast growing. This little girl is going downhill fast. They thought they had till Monday to finish testing and begin chemo to shrink the tumor. It is cancer in the "small round blue cell tumor of early childhood" family.

Jillian isn't doing real well at this point. She has one lung functioning, and now is developing fluid in it.

Please pray for this little girl and her family. Pleas share this with those who will pray."

Happy Birthday Memaw!

Sabrina, pictured here with Cristy, turns 12 today. The poster child for Best Adjusted Child in our family with her sunny disposition and complete lack of anger over her past. She's been hurt by the perceived rejection, but she's emotionally strong, and such a social butterfly that I think she feels a bad attitude would only cut into her social life. Why bother? She's a joy to raise. Her Memaw nickname has followed her to middle school, Tabby laid that moniker on her back in Texas and it's stuck with her. Memaw is spectacularly beautiful and sweet, sweet, sweet. I'm so blessed to be her mama.

Next month is their second anniversary in our family. It used to be, once I had a new sibling group settled down, I'd feel there was room in our hearts and our family for another sibling group, but not anymore. I feel this is it, this is my capacity, my limit, and I feel strongly I've been following God's lead all this time. I truly believe that He built my family, and that deep, inner conviction has sustained me through some very difficult times.

I should have asked my friend, Cindy A, if I could link her page here and I will check with her, but for now I'd like to ask any of y'all headed out to church to put her on your prayer list. A mother of a large family, she's facing a difficult surgery tomorrow, I'm praying for her frightened family as well. And then for a successful outcome, a fast recovery and that all their needs would be met. Everyone's prayers sustained me during my surgery last fall, and I'm wanting the same for Cindy and her family; believing already for the best.

Our Horses, Not

I look at my gorgeous granddaughter, Blanca, and I'm so grateful that she has a strong, over-protective set of parents. She's a sweet girl, in a class with Paloma at school, giving Paloma a much needed sense of calm and quiet.

They were playing hard the other evening, and I'm thankful we live in such a safe, secluded place for them to run and ride bikes. They're not allowed past our property line up by the mailbox but I just realized that Tabby doesn't quite get that concept. She'd asked me how many horses were on our property?

"None," I'd replied, but not uneasyily because the babies aren't allowed past the end of Grandpa's fence, they have to stay in my line of sight. Grandbabies know that also, yet Ray's been the one to want to push the envelope, encouraged by Nando, I've noticed.

We had yet another calm, peaceful Saturday afternoon, chores done, no squabbles, everyone happy and content. Is this my house?

Javy, growing absolutely huge, overnight, had run over to Sarah and Preston's house to help set a concrete culvert into place, Gito working for a farmer, Sonny at work and Sergi working his second job. Way to make me proud guys.

Sonny's been working a great deal of long hours, eating supper with me, watching TV last night with Jose, snoring on the couch.

My Starter Greenhouse Is Coming

The man with the greenhouse came to within $50 of my final offer, I am so excited, he threw in the exhaust fan and thermometer, the moving it here expenses, and it comes Monday, barring a thunderstorm.

I am so thrilled. He's been trying to unload it for two years so he's as happy as I am.

There's a great deal of uses for an unheated greenhouse, I'll outgrow this before I know it, but I'll use the tar outta it, and have a blast doing so.

Heart-Warming

I'm supposed to be writing a heart-warming story for another publication, but fighting my sarcasm and uber-realistic approach to life, I'm struggling with it being closer to heart-worming.

Trying to coax Sarah into writing a piece as well, she literally said the thought made her gag, it would be pimping herself to fake it, she claims.

I think we need attitude adjustments. Yolie's no help either, her razor sharp wit holds me accountable, all too often, but with CJ fixing to be two in June, and she will also have a newborn, I think we need to be working on our stand-up routines instead.

On The Fence

As usual I'm on the fence about this pseudo-greenhouse; it'll do for now, it's better than my kitchen counters and the dining room that are overflowing with seedlings and grow lights, bags of different type soil, clay pots, containers of seeds I've saved, but the guy didn't come down enough on it so I walked away. I've lost a lot of great deals over the years with my stubbornness but, oh well, if it's meant to be, it will be.

I have a huge list of stuff Fabian needs for his wilderness program, but the staff told me he'd trash everything, so please buy used. I spent $80 at Goodwill. I can't imagine what this would have cost at sticker price.

Came home to valentine brownies from Carolina. Her four kids, plus Yolie and CJ, rode tricycles and scooters all evening in the house, well Yolie didn't; heck she's 6 1/2 months pregnant.

Too cold for yard sales, Miriam already left for McDonalds and the kids are up at 5:30 in the morning, knowing it is Saturday, clamoring for computer time and "can we go outside and ride bikes?"

In the dark? The sun's not even up yet.

Mysteries

Claudia covered an interesting story on psychopaths yesterday that I piggybacked into my other blog. The symptoms and the criteria flapping about in my brain, thinking about RAD and BPD, always wondering how to get resources, support and help

Needing Psychological Help

And I'm fortunate that Dr. G reads the blogs and helps me filter our lives through his professional and expert opinion. He sees what I don't see, or he explains what he sees happening that I might not have considered. I too have greatly benefited from these sessions.

Dr. G pointed out that with Fabian and Joey's disruptive, violent influence not here presently, our house seems to have settled down greatly. Edgar has taken to sleeping on the living room sofa every night lately, planted slap in the middle of everything; a watchdog with Daniel gone? Taking seriously his position as the eldest male at home?

Regarding Vanessa's turnaround, Dr, G reminded me of a time last year that she'd stormed out of a session when he'd touched a raw nerve about her birth mother, yet she'd returned within 15 or so minutes, ready to talk; and he thinks that may have indicated her turning point.

I'm certain she has explored feelings with him that she may not have felt comfortable doing with me. Mother issues are tricky and complex, factor in the birth mom and the adoptive mom relationships with traumatized children...no wonder we deeply need psychological intervention. We were fortunate to find a psychologist who is experienced with CPS, adoption and trauma.

Gito and Javy both wanted sessions today, they need the male opinion, the logic that Dr. G presents for them, they need reassurance and help, they need this "distance" from me, an outside opinion, someone they trust. He keeps their confidences.

We are so blessed to have this opportunity available to us.

Scrounging Around

This is not my first choice of my long-desired greenhouse, this unheated, plastic version, but I may have found a deal on a discontinued one that'd do in a pinch. I've needed, and wanted, one since I was 18 years old, but I've learned the art of waiting rather than going in debt. I didn't realize though that I'd end up waiting more than 30 plus years...maybe I still have to wait longer, we'll see.

I'm finding all sorts of opportunities lately, some I don't want to write about until it's a done deal, totally accomplished, but every which way I turn lately seems to be a blessing.

I found a hardback copy of Nancy Grace's Book, Objection, for less than a dollar, and I was able to buy Sabrina's dream gift (for way less than sticker price) for her birthday coming up this Sunday. It is a MountainSmith purse, something that all the middle schoolers apparently are carrying around. I, of course, don't want to encourage her to follow fads nor be a slave to fashion, but I remember just two years ago, she turned 10 in an emergency shelter, taking care of 3 siblings then just 6, 3, and 2; they called her Memaw as do we also. She's a great kid who needs a good birthday memory.

Sabrina is just as happy shopping at yard sales, as are all my daughters, knowing we've found incredibly good deals, name brands for nickels, a treasure hunt for us, and I hope it teaches frugality to them. I have a mental list of stuff in my head that my older kids have asked me to be on the lookout for at yard sales.

My 1986 truck is running again, and on Freecycle I got a Mattock and row cover yesterday for nothing...a wonderful way to shop and keep stuff out of the landfill. Lord have mercy, I love to scrounge around.

Meeting Their Needs

A lady from Atlanta had written about me in her blog, at first hearing I had 39 kids, she suspected I'd be unable to meet each and everyone's unique needs, later using the word 'hero' to describe my efforts and antics. I'm getting new readers every day, reaching a larger audience, and it'd be a bear to dig through all my archives, although I've had readers tell me they've done so.

All I can say about this number of kids is that it is a good thing that such an over-bearing, hyperactive, enegetic, nosey, intense, bossy, and possively over-protective woman like me has 39 kids to dilute her.

As it is now, 1/39th of me is a pretty heavy dose. It is equal to 110% of a normal person. I'm just a different species. My motor racing all the time, ideas shooting in and out of my head, kids looking to me for reassurance, strength and commitment at all times, I find it both challenging and rewarding on a minute by minute basis.

And I'm simply glad I'm me, here in this family, on this piece of land, with these particular children, going to our church, having our school system, and having the ability to count my blessings with an attitude of gratitude each day.

I'm Praying TOO Y'all

Daniel, who has lived away from home in college, but is now in the Army Basic Training wrote that he finally got homesick...at a church service at Fort Benning.

There is something very powerful in "training up a child in the way they should go and they shall not depart from it."

You best believe I've named it, claimed it and framed it...that one verse of Scripture, yes, among others.

He has no idea how many times lately I've called his turned-off cell phone just to hear his voice message. He'd be snickering over that.

Changing a RAD Child's Behavior

I blogged in detail about another child of mine, who will have to stay in an extended therapeutic placement on the other blog.

I feel it is a win-win situation. She is not responding to any type of therapy here.

I told the therapist that I felt like a failure in my own inability to turn these behaviors around, but Miss Pat pointed out that her team, as well, felt the same way as they'd not had the desired results either.

IFI, DJJ and I are all frustrated and disappointed, but these therapeutic resources are available for a reason and I'm grateful that we can use them, possibly turn this into an opportunity for Teresa. Like Joey, I'm afraid it is going to take a very, very long time to see any progress in these two birth siblings, so harmed by their mother's inhalant abuse during pregnancies...plus she also drank and ingested other street drugs.

I tried to explain to a reader, Courtney, that we don't blame the birth mother's choices here; rather it is merely an explanation for why my kid's have issues. I seriously doubt if anyone ever appropriately parented their birth mom with love and affection, Joey has told me several stories about her. Most of my children, adopted as older kids, have many memories of their life in the birth families. I respect their feelings, their torn allegiances, and I also know, from experience, that it will all work out for them emotionally at some point. But Courtney got me thinking about this....

None of my kids rage about their birth parents, rarely express hatred or anger, only their very profound sense of loss. Later, I've had older children either meet their birth parents, catch up with them again, or hear from them, and, so far, it has not resulted in a positive situation...then the anger comes, until finally there is resignation and a sense of understanding, many are still working on forgiveness.

A Good Reason to Cuss

I started to blog about this story on the other blog but I wasn't sure I could maintain a professional stance as I am DADGUM OUTRAGED.

A sib group of TWO can't find a family TOGETHER?

I have to end this post or I will find myself cussing.

Coming Out From Under Fire

After dashing to the fourth grade breakfast this morning, sitting with Lily, JoJo and Tony and watching them eat school food, I was once again grateful to be a stay-at-home mom. Honey, I traipsed in and out of school cafeterias for 25 years, never once buying a meal, other than the salad bar which was wonderful at a high school I worked in for 13 years.

Then off to traffic court with Edgar. He'd been ticketed fro failing to move over a lane for an emergency vehicle that was parked on the shoulder of the road, a new law in Georgia. Last week we also went to court on this same charge, was told it was a four point violation which would take away his driver's license for six months. No can do as he works 50 hours a week. They told him to get a lawyer.

He did so, with his own money, and got the charge reduced to driving too fast for conditions, zero points, but a $300 fine. Dodged yet another bullet.

I'd have advised Sonny to do the same over his speeding ticket, but he unwisely tried to hide the entire episode from me, bad move slick, I could have helped.

I won't enable, I won't pay lawyer fees, nor your fines, but I'll hold your hand through ordeals, appear in court with you as parental presence is always noticed by the judge, I'll advise you on an honest way to accept responsibility with the least amount of damage done to your livelihood. Just be polite and honest sons and you'll get through.

Edgar has learned a great deal the hard, expensive way this last year.

I remember Big Joe once totaling all his lawyer fees, court costs, probation fees and fines...he could have bought a very nice car with that money, but I reminded him, "I'm just glad you finally learned your lessons, I don't care what it cost you financially, you are still alive and a mighty fine man now, that's all I wanted."

Smiling

I was telling Yolie that so much great stuff is happening for us lately, that I fear to trust it; that it could all end at any minute. I am so used to coping with calamity, dealing with disaster, taking yet another hit, and dodging bullets, that I'm now amazed that every time I turn around, I'm seeing prayers answered. Yolie pointed out that now I know how adopted kids feel. Ouch.

Fabian was accepted today at a wilderness program that I really liked. It's even better than the two that turned him down, it is parent friendly...all too often I have to sit with a bunch of dysfunctional families whose children are in trouble because they are drunks or party animals or simply irresponsible, in our case I got the troubled kids delivered to my house and I've always been sober.

I liked everyone I met today, I liked their probing questions to Fabian and their answers to me. I met one man there, the number 2 guy in charge, who's in the middle of adopting a 14 year old boy. How cool is that?

And we have a great DJJ/IFI plan for Teresa that I'll blog about tomorrow, a win-win solution, and we are very happy about it.

I'm walking around shaking my head in amazement at all the blessings lately instead of the trials and tribulations of last year. It feels good to smile.

These Tough Sons Of Mine

I woke up around four this morning, thinking about the day ahead of me. Miriam, Vanessa and I are going to meet Fabian, and his DJJ Officer, at yet another outdoor wilderness program, this one way up in the north Georgia mountains, near North Carolina, as two other places have deemed him too violent.

I know he's violent, but my gut feeling is that he'll do well in such a program. I talked to him two evenings ago, walking him verbally through the process, "Son, this is what you have to do to be a successful man someday," as I fret over Joey's incarceration. Big Joe calling and reassuring me it's just going to take Joey about a decade longer than it took the other kids to mature.

As much as he helps me around here, as much as he's been the parent figure for his 6 siblings, I look at Edgar in astonishment at times, thinking how much more emotional maturity he needs. How emotionally stuck in toddler-mama stage he sometimes seems, needing my reassurance, yet pushing me away. He was up, as usual before 5 a.m., to get to work, he's done extremely well in that area, he's so likable, a handsome smile at the drop of a hat, and he has willing, pleasant attitude. His boss is the husband of a friend of mine, a wonderful male role model for Edgar, I'm pleased as punch at the help Chris has given to Edgar, paying attention to him, holding him strictly accountable, and always calling a spade a spade when necessary.

Edgar's angry at Fabian, wouldn't talk to him on the phone, nor write him a letter and I know it cuts deep for Fabian. Edgar's pet name for his younger birth brother is Little Man, lately it's been reduced to Punk. But I'm going to surprise Fabian today and bring Miriam and Vanessa with me as he loves them beyond measure. Both of them have A's & B's (thank you PowerSchool for letting me know every day) and can afford to miss a day of school, they'll be very encouraging to him.

I think back to when Jesse, Joe, Sergi, Daniel, Sonny and Gito were my only sons. Let me use my grandma's words, "I swanny!" and an exclamation mark, as boys coming up through the adoption world are very different now. The anger issues, the hostility, the defiance and the oppositional behavior, the rages, the violence and the gang mentality have all contributed to some tough sons to raise. My first six sons kept me busy and on my toes with some of their behaviors, but even with Joe's police involvement a half a dozen times, there was not the undercurrent of aggression, brutality and ferocity.

The first six sons had a great sense of group humor, kept me entertained; they were so much easier to raise. I miss having them home with me, now only Gito is here from that era.

Joey opened the door for me into that world and it has seemed to be a dark one.

ER Redo

Jonathan came running in the house with a plumbing fitting, resembling a small wedding band, wedged on his finger, two knuckles down. Neither oil, soap, nor cold water had any effect, I even quickly called Deysi, "How'd we get that ring off you when you had one stuck?" I questioned her.

"It had to be cut off at the emergency room, and everyone laughed at me because I was 12 years old then," she giggled.

"Let's go, son," I hollered, with Jack tagging along as moral support. This is the same kid who somehow got his head stuck once in the bed frame of a top bunk. Some elderly man in the waiting room pulled out his pocket knife, "Come mere Son, I'll take care of that fer ya!" Jonathan, big-eyed, backed up close to me.

The ER nurse did cut it off with a tool, remarking it'd been a tough two days at our house, hadn't it? She hugged me good-bye, "See you next time, Cindy."

Focal Point

On my other blog I am writing extensively about parenting traumatized children. I am quoting from a bulletin that I recieve, that can be downloaded at this address.

It is must reading, this is what we do when we adopt from the foster care system, we parent traumatized children.

These Two Made It To School Today,

Gito came here 12 years ago at age 3 along with 3 older siblings, he turned four within the first month, but it had been ages since I'd had a lap baby. Within 4 months of getting that darling toddler son of mine, I became a grandmother, and a dozen more grandbabies followed, plus I also ended up with three infants and quite a few toddlers.

Now I don't have any babies anymore, even Tabby is four and fiercely independent. Gito turned 16 today.

His wrestling season ended yesterday and he's feeling on top of the world right now.

This virus is horrendous, five kids are home today from school with raging headaches, puking, and fevers. I'd had to go pick up JoJo yesterday, crying in the school clinic over his head hurting, I was told another parent had gone to the doctor's office with her child only to find 50 kids in the waiting room. Chuy, CW, Allen, Martin and JoJo are all here with me.

Tomorrow I need to meet Fabian up near the NC border for an interview in yet another wilderness program, so far two have turned him down for being too violent. I'll spend all day on the road tomorrow.

Grandma had her Bridge Club over yesterday, she leaves on Thursday, again for the beach, and I have two appointments on that day so I'll need to find Sarah or Yolie to help me with Tabby and Nando, but the bigger problem will be if any kids are still sick.

Nando's Not So Good Evening

Plowing through my usual paperwork last night, I heard a crash in Nando's room, "That doesn't sound good," I told Edgar.

He then heard me holler for help from the room, as my hand came away from the back of Nando's head, filled with blood.

He'd somehow fallen out of a double bed and cut his head on the metal part of the frame.

I'm so squeamish. People remark, "With all those kids?" Like the number alone should have cured my queasy stomach?

Within two seconds the room was crowded, with all my other kids, as they scrambled out of bed to check on the commotion.

Miriam and Edgar helped me clean him up, it was a better safe than sorry moment, so I drove him to the ER, Vanessa by my side.

The good news is, head wounds bleed a lot, no stitches nor staples were needed.

RAD In Action

I just received a collect phone call from the inmate phone system, Joey informing me that he'd turned himself in, and he was in jail for his probation violations. My friend, Jeanne, called soon afterwards to also let me know, which I appreciate.

Joey's now happy, he is in his environment of 'three hots and a cot', he doesn't have to hold down a job, or pay bills, he can sit around all day, and run his mouth, saying inane stuff, to people just like him. This is his mileau.

His birth sister, Teresa, is well on her own merry path to incarceration as well. At DJJ this morning Miss Tiffany informed her that she'd expected improvement, not a continuing flow of sanctions, as Teresa still willfully helps herself to anything anyone owns that she wants. She feels it is her right, and when one combines that with a total lack of conscience, it is scary, frustrating and nearly impossible to change.

I've watched a psychologist, three different probation officers, a judge, three IFI Intensive Family Intervention) team members, 4 deputies, numerous teachers, and countless school administrators try and explain to her that stealing is wrong.

But she does not care that it is wrong. What does this word 'wrong' mean? Absolutely nothing to her, not one thing. Combine this lack of empathy with strong intelligence and the words sociopathic and psychopathic come to mind.

Oddly enough, I have higher hopes for Joey, who though he lies and steal also, he does have a heart.

Symptoms of RAD in Children

-Superficially charming and engaging, particularly around strangers or those who they feel they can manipulate
-Indiscriminate affection, often to strangers; but not affectionate on parent’s terms
-Problems making eye contact, except when angry or lying
-A severe need to control everything and everyone; worsens as the child gets older
-Hypervigilant
-Hyperactive, yet lazy in performing tasks
-Argumentative, often over silly or insignificant things
-Frequent tantrums or rage, often over trivial issues
-Demanding or clingy, often at inappropriate times
-Trouble understanding cause and effect
-Poor impulse control
-Lacks morals, values, and spiritual faith
-Little or no empathy; often have not developed a conscience
-Cruelty to animals
-Lying for no apparent reason
-False allegations of abuse
-Destructive to property or self
-Stealing
-Constant chatter; nonsense questions
-Abnormal speech patterns; uninterested in learning communication skills
-Developmental / Learning delays
-Fascination with fire, blood and gore, weapons, evil; will usually make the bad choice
-Problems with food; either hoarding it or refusing to eat
-Concerned with details, but ignoring the main issues
-Few or no long term friends; tend to be loners
-Attitude of entitlement and self-importance
-Sneaks things without permission even if he could have had them by asking
-Triangulation of adults; pitting one against the other
-A darkness behind the eyes when raging

I bolded the ones that totally apply to Teresa.

Slow Progress

Martin's now home sick with this nasty virus, that causes headaches and stomach pains, plus a fever. Cold outside, no baseball on TV, not my time of the year at all. I get cabin fever, antsy, amped up, and feel caged and trapped; frustrated at no fresh air and no gardening, although I'm already repotting all the various pepper plants that are growing. Instead of clipping out the extra ones, I divide and am ending up with a variety of several hundred hot and sweet pepper plants of ten varieties.

JoJo is caving in on us, shutting down at school, that veil I've often seen decsending in their eyes, life is too hard, he's frustrated and irritable. I'm going to come down hard on him, hold him accountable for his every movement, or the lack thereof.

But I'm hanging in there with the knowledge that progress is slow, but inevitable, and "the trees that are slow to grow bear the best fruit."
(Moliere)

Scotty couldn't/wouldn/t find his bookbag this morning, logic doesn't work on anyone at any time.

Sonny just came over, on his way to work, complaining about a sore throat coming on, "What do I take, Mom? I dosed him up with ibuprofen and Vitamin C. Miriam and Vanessa texting me within the first ten minutes of school with their imaginary ailments...translation, "Mom are you there for us? Do you still love us? You haven't jumped ship have you?" The primal fear still there after all these years.

And so it goes...

Alexander on my hip, DJJ appointment for Teresa this morning, beans simmering on the stove, smelling like home.

End of a Good Weekend

Joe and Alyssa, over for the afternoon, she had to warm up to the noise level here before she jumped into the midst of them yelling louder than Vanessa over the marble game on the floor.

I must be on Cristy's Starbucks loop or something as she's been breezing through here every weekend lately. She'd bought some paints and an easel for Lily, teaching her oil painting stuff that I don't know beans about.

A Quiet Sunday Afternoon...Still Cold

If I'd have known how much fun it is to be in one's fifties, I'd have tried to get here sooner, considering how hyperactive I am, it's a wonder I didn't get here faster.

It's so much easier nowadays since I don't get so worked up over stupid stuff. Bust my sofa up? Oh well, I bought it at a yard sale. Life's too short to get upset over furniture. I'm halfway through my earthly existence, it went really fast, and I expect the next fifty will go even faster.

The grandbabies have got to be easier than this generation has been...there's a big duh. Holding CJ in church this morning though, he waited until all was quiet to fart like a Yamaha motorcycle...twice...and I may be 52, but I'm immature enough to nearly fall out of my chair laughing, figuring the people around us probably thought I'd let one.

I was reading a man's blog I'd come across, a gay therapist, who'd mused aloud wondering what his conservative, fundamentalist client would think if she knew that about him.

Hmm, I'm a conservative, Republican, fundamentalist and Bible Belt Southern...what would I think? I'd think it was none of my business. And then I wondered if that was an acceptable answer...but it's all I got. It really is none of anyone's business.

His blog was sharp, very insightful, and interesting. Sometimes I like to leave my world, and enter the world of others, who are not bogged down and obsessed with their 39 children.

We've had a quiet day, I've gotten to read the book pictured below and am finding it fascinating, I ran off to Sonny's church league basketball game, and the grocery store, but I've not had to referee anyone all day.

A Regular Mom

My kids like for me to put their pictures here, but I'm going to use one of two non-ragers yesterday, rather than give Mr. Irate any photo publicity. We don't have horses but a neighbor way down the end of our dirt road does, and the kids often ride bikes over there to pet them, told by the owner, "they're gentle, but never stand behind them."

Heck, I learned that theory here within my own home. Good advice for moms of ragers.

It wasn't an hour after Miriam and Edgar left to go to the movies together last night when their baby brother, JoJo, had yet another melt down hissy fit. I'd been called to the school recently to come get him, when he'd simply decided that he couldn't go on any longer, exhausted from the effort of holding it together, by the time his teacher got fed up and spoke crossly to him, he snapped...it was only 8 in the morning and he was unglued.

Last night he utterly collapsed when I decided to send him to bed early for his dozenth rage, "I'm NOT going to bed," he bellowed.

Gito, Vanessa and I spent an entire hour sitting on the floor of the bedroom until he calmed down. Gito had to physically restrain JoJo who was hellbent on hitting Vanessa, screaming he didn't love her, "I hate you, you retard!" was his politically incorrect verbal yankings combined with, "I hate this whole family, I wish I'd never gotten here."

Sticks and stones son, neither Vanessa nor I had any hurt feelings, finally he calmed down, but told us he was gonna sleep on the floor, so I went to take a very hot shower, only to find him outside my bathroom door, "I'm sorry Mommy, can I have a second chance?" pitifully beseeching me with his huge, deep eyes.

"Second chance? Who can't count?" I'd insensitively cracked, "No, you're going to learn to follow directions."

I heard his waaaaaaaahhh wailings all the way down the long hall.

This morning, hearing me pour coffee...it's not that his hearing is that good, these children's radars are super finely tuned to my every nuance, move, mood, word, action and thought it would appear, he came shuffling down the hall, "Mommy, I'm really sorry this time and now I really mean it."

"JoJo, I know you're sorry now, but there's not another kid in that school, except for more of mine, who would ever act like that. Other mothers don't have to go pick up rebellious, raging fourth graders who won't listen to the teacher. That's not..." I struggled for a word other than 'normal,' "exactly how a 9 year old boy should act," remembering my own normal brothers who would have eaten boogers off the wall before they'd have cried in front of their classmates.

Wiping his own line of greasy snot on my pjs, hugging me and burying his face in my bony ribcage he just cried it all out once again.

Again this is life with traumatized children, it's not a question of normal, they do grow out of it if I don't quit on them, if I love them through it for decades. "How can you love me when so many other people didn't?" is their age old wonderment, but I do. I really do, and I can't explain it with words very well.

Eventually the kids don't question it anymore, but expect it as the natural right of a son or a daughter to a mama. Yolie, Daniel, Joe, Jesse, Sergi, Gina, Cristy, Deysi, Saray, Marcela, Carolina, Sonny, and Monica no longer even think about it, it is a solid emotion, buttressed by years and years of my commitment and adoration of them, but I wish I'd written about it, my tough life with them and all it took to get to this point, so that others would know...but I suppose the proof is in the pudding now in their ability to return the love back to me. I have superb grown kids who strengthen me to go on each day.

And, of course, having raised a birth child for 33 years, my experience as a regular mom has helped me as well.

This bottom picture, sent to me by Ms. Carr, has nothing to do with this post other than I've been giggling over it all morning what with all my years in the public school system and the years living this atrasado (backwards) life.

Freezing

It's 25 degrees out there and the only reason Paloma is wearing a coat is because I insisted. She'd rather freeze, I had to demand that she put on shoes. Honey, I'm wearing long johns, this is frigid weather, Vanessa's out picking daffodils in shirtsleeves...what part of reality buffaloes my kids?