More Shades of Green

Claudia's book and Dee's book have both piqued my own interest in eventually having Sarah edit this blog, that is now close to 3,000 posts, into some semblance of a story. The weird thing to me is that I do blog a lot, but only touch upon such a tiny fraction of the major events occurring here each day.

My house is blessedly quiet for the moment with everyone in school, we have a half-decent chance of rain later. Late last night on the radar I saw Atlanta get a huge storm while we never even saw the first lightening flash. I'd wager that west of Atlanta has received 20 times the amount of rainfall as us.

It was three weeks ago tonight that I was awakened at 1 in the morning to a hellish event. Last night was the first night since then that I got a full seven hours of sleep. It's taken me quite some time to begin to cope once again with a new and different normal.

My first husband, Sarah's father, knew I'd post this picture sooner or later. I think he told me he'd been face painted at Busch Gardens, when he and his wife had taken a grandchild there. Dang, JB, I like the various shades of green.

Dealing with the aftermath of yesterday's very violent disturbance, I called Jesse out in Texas this morning, pre-empting his questions, explaining the situation that had occurred in the next county, talking with Yolie also about it of course, moving on, hoping for a resolution and way less drama.

Forgetful about details, I'd purchased another gallon of 'Herbal Green' paint, getting home and realizing I should've gotten 'Thyme Green' or vice versa. Whatever, it's not like all our of bathrooms don't need another coat. Then maybe I'll superglue the kitchen cabinet knobs on, in the very faint hope that no one will mess with them.

In her teaching of Path classes, Yolie is careful to point out some issues that naive, clueless prospective adoptive parents, like I once was, will surely face such as enuresis and encompresis. Nasty issues that are fairly common, hard to live with certainly, and graphically indicative of severe emotional disturbance, but as I reminded my friend, Emily, who already knew anyway, when one raises troubled children, one's house is going to bear the brunt of these issues which may or may not include feces smearing.

Emily remembers when I bought this house, nearly 17 years ago, it was much smaller then and had ZERO kicked in walls, no holes at all...ya know, like most normal houses. Adoptive parents need to know they will be expected to endure violence and destruction from angry children who've been adopted from the foster care system. It's a fact.

One of my teenagers left me a sweet note on the coffee table that Shadow, the puppy, just chewed up. OK Miss Runaway and Has Snuck Out At Night, talk's cheap. Don't just tell me you love me, show it through some positive actions. Again I'm grateful for the door alarms.

In four days, when my retirement check is electronically deposited, I'm purchasing window alarms, no easy feat in a house with seemingly a thousand windows.

Next up, a Walton EMC Security System...this from someone who never locked up until recently, who leaves her keys in the vehicles...for most of my entire life I've safely slept with only an unlatched screen door, never fearful.

"Smell the pee?" I'd idiotically asked Emily, as if I needed reassurance of an obvious fact, circles of dampness on the sheets that an 11 year old denied wetting. Dude, do you think my eyeballs are painted on? I can see.

There's no point in me belaboring the issue when I can just as easily go wash the sheets my ownself, the issues here run so deep, many of my children don't stop the bed-wetting until their early teens.

A special ed teacher long ago informed me that bedwetting in a 12 year old was not normal behavior, and I withheld my smart alec, "No Spit?" response.

I KNOW this, but that doesn't change the fact that my children have some very deep, severe psychological issues that are constantly being addressed in various therapies.

After nearly ten years of trying every single day and night, one of my sons is finally learning to sit at the dinner table, to not keep getting up and bouncing around the kitchen, to chew with his mouth shut, to not hit others at the table...anyone really wonder why I thought Alternative School was a wonderful option for him?

Is my entire life really just one big DUH?

I absolutely have to expend a great whopping amount of excess tension and energy each day to just release my own stress, we call it 'getting yer energy out' as if we didn't do so, we might just bounce off the walls all night. I know that is true of someone like me.

Ahhhhh, my sweet pastor Tony just texted me exactly the encouragement, the confirmation I needed to hear. Now I really will go paint a bathroom. Mine needs it too, but by the time I got all the plants out, my day would be shot, think I'll start with the Bubbas bathroom that Vanessa once painted red and purple.