Getting sucked into American Idol

Yeah, I'm procrastinating from getting a jump on my Monday morning...I know, I know. 

OK, I normally really don't watch American Idol.  I admit, I have been known to veg out with television after some long days: House, Amazing Race, Biggest Loser.  I can get sucked in.  But American Idol, while a favorite with my girls, is something that I find almost painful to watch, at least in the beginning of the season when they are doing first cuts.  It's hard for me to watch the really really bad performances; I feel SO bad for the contestant as they are performing and then as they stand there being shredded by the judges.  It's almost a physical "ow" watching.  So I don't.

But my Chris tipped me off about this girl.  Said I would be interested in her and she was good and I would want to see how she did.  He was right.  See for yourself.  I love this and will root for her; not only a family I can get behind, but her head and heart are in the right place and she has a great voice.  And she picked a great song.  I hope she goes far. 

And Now We Are Six. Happy Bday Little Man!

Happy Happy Birthday my Little Man!

You are six years old today!

And, this year your birthday lands on Superbowl Sunday! How cool is that?
You get all the birthday fun and all the Superbowl fun and football and football food, all together.
Sounds almost like a birthday wish come true.

Oh my boy....
You've been waiting, impatiently, for your sixth birthday.
Jumping and hopping with excitement just thinking about it.
I think you know it's going to be an especially good sort of year.

When you are six,
you get to do cartwheels in the hallways,
and talk after bedtime with  your brother
and have jumping contests off the stairs
until your mom hollers at you to stop.
You have car races in the foyer,
and wrestling matches in the study,
practice roaring like a dinosaur with your brother,
and pester your big sisters until you all get in trouble.

Outside is for snowballs
and sleds
and bikes
and worms
and cannonballs
and skateboards
and finding the perfect stick.

You love to run fast,
jump high,
shout loud,
laugh hard,
and flop down on the ground to catch  your breath,
before you jump up to chase your brother again.

You love to eat.
Most anything.
But especially, pizza and cheeseburgers,
pancakes and eggs,
french fries and grilled cheese,
pasta and chicken fingers,
cookies,
and more cookies,
most anything, really...
as long as it doesn't have peanut butter in it.
Because peanuts and peanut butter are just gross.

You don't like chores, but you know how to do them when you set your mind to it.
You don't like homework, but you love school.
You think Miss Thompson is the "greatest kindergarden teacher in the universe."
I think she is too.
You like to try out new words like "spectacular" and "ridiculous."
You wonder if I can make you an eye doctor appointment, so you can get yourself "some laser eyes."
You don't like thunder or bad dreams, but like being able to snuggle back to sleep.
You don't like bedtime, but do like singing "Hail Holy Queen" with mom every night.
And you say, "We sound good."
I think so too.

Oh my six year old son.
I love you so.
We all love you so much and can't imagine this family without your big happy grin and loud bouncing running joking you.
You are happy and cuddly and smart and full of life and full of love.

Exuberant.
Being six is kind of magic and especially wonderful.
There was a special writer named A.A. Milne.
He said it best, about being six:

Now We Are Six - 

When I was one, I had just begun, 

When I was two, I was nearly new, 

When I was three, I was hardly me, 

When I was four, I was not much more, 

When I was five, I was just alive, 

but now I am six, 

I'm as clever as clever, 

So I think I'll be six now and forever. 

Author A.A. Milne

Happy Happy Birthday Little Man!

We are so glad you are six!

Saturday Roundup

So....I have all these little bits and pieces rolling around my brain. Making me all distracted..or, erm, more distracted than usual. So, in order to get something done and move forward, I'm kind of downloading them into a roundup post.
It's Saturday, chore day, time for tidying up.
Today, I'm tidying my brain.
Fair warning.

Let's see (in no particular order of importance):

Just talked w/ Chris. He's safe and sound in Rome, he's ensconced in his dorm and happy as a clam. Jet-lagged excited happy and hungry. Four course dinner tonight to welcome them after Mass. Ah, what a life!

The group in Haiti who was detained for taking the kids across the border...? Makes me nuts. I don't pretend to know what they were doing, or if it was criminal or not. But, IMHO, it was simply, if nothing else, stupid and damaging. Possibly criminally stupid. It was not only, at best, good intentions run amok, but it appears that it was deceptive. And that is always wrong. Setting aside the trauma of these kids, families, parents in this event, if you can, (and I know, you can't, but I told you my mind is all over the map lately)...it is the worst of the ugly American. At best, it was thoughtless and arrogant.

And that gets me riled. That somehow, taking these kids to live across the border in an orphanage, and possibly adopted out of their home country, is better than keeping them with their families and in their home country? Really? NO. Yes, the hardships before and even more so now after this quake were and are overwhelming. But those kids have parents, families and a village and a culture and HOME....and that trumps all. That is what is best for them, not a removal of that, swayed by nudging and promises made in desperate times. And further, this just continues to give international adoption a bad name. It adds to the misinformation and misunderstanding of orphaned and relinquished and abandoned kids...to the whole system and process and complex nature of adoption in general, and internationally in particular. And that, the broader scope of what these folks have unwittingly accomplished here, just kind of ticks me off. Ok, sorry, rant over.


Next, still working on school fine tuning, especially with Marta. And realizing that being an advocate for your kids is never done. I mean, I knew it.....but sometimes you kind of think, "Ok, whew, done for now. Hoorah." Well, no. Especially with regard to special needs, and school stuff....its a marathon, an ultra-marathon...and I'm strapping on my shoes for the long haul. Because, well, it's gonna be a long haul. But then again, I guess that's being a mom. That's the job description in one way or another.

Special needs stuff is a huge jungle to hack through. I mean, just when you figure out one tiny part of the map, or how to read that map and begin to make sense of it...well, then you have to start reading a whole new one. And it's very hard to parse out. And the road ahead...well, it's hard to see. I guess that's where we are supposed to work on one day at a time. Living in the moment, and all that. I'm really bad at that, good thing I have so much opportunity to practice. Ha!


Been thinking about the blog a bit. I think I have been using a double standard and I think I might change it up. By which I mean, I use nicknames for most of the kids.....(and did for Tom and I before all the Marta Visa/TB stuff hit the fan) but never have with Gabey or Marta. Well, that's not entirely fair, is it? So, do I add nicknames to Gabey and Marta? Hmm, that bell has already been rung. Or do I go for equity and just start using the rest of the kids given names? At least sometimes. Stewing on this. What do you think?


Last: Lent approaches. I have much pondering to do about that again. I want to think about fasting and get that all sorted out before Ash Wednesday....Stewing about what I will do for this lent, how to have a spiritually productive season....surely there will be posts about it all. And it seems unrelated but its not (at least to my jumbly mind): I was wondering if anyone knew a reasonably priced way to reproduce original artwork.....paper mixed media into a print form and downsized considerably. I have a series on the Stations of the Cross that I was thinking about making into a manageable form, like printed together on one sheet or a few....but not sure how to do it without spending a fortune. Ideas?

OK, I've swept my brain clean for a moment or two. Now to do the same to my house. And find some more coffee to jump start those sleepy synapses again.

Tom's Home....and Chris is headed off to adventure.

Tom and Cindy, the invaluable nurse on the team, flying home; 

thanks to the generous Haitian pilot Jorge Paulhiac who let them  hitch a ride.

Tom, Coffeedoc, is home! It was a long haul home, but he made it safe and sound. Chris, Buddybug, is gone....off to Rome to study for the semester.

In less than 24 hours we've had incoming and outgoing bags and packs and airport runs in both directions.  A revolving door to this house this week.
The good part is that Tom is back and we are all so very glad!  And we were all glad to have had one last family dinner together last night, and for Tom to be able to see Chris a bit more before he left.
Was it hectic?
You betcha!
Was it worth it?
But of course!

So, to follow this new adventure in Buddybug's life, go here.
He's gonna post from Rome, often enough to keep us all happy.  Or so we can live vicariously, or virtually, and follow the fun, frustrations, faith, liturgy, beauty, silliness, art, food and adventures of a semester in Rome.
That's the plan at any rate. 

As for Tom....I think he has some decompressing to do.  I think it was a great trip, seems like it was a good team to work with and much good work was done.  And I know for him it's very satisfying and rewarding to be able to go and do all this. He loves doing it...on so many levels.

There were many folks to help unfortunately, due to the quake. But happily enough, many docs and teams working hard throughout the country.  Tom enjoyed working with other docs from all over, and was glad to be able to!  Docs and teams might pop in, lend a hand and move on.  Other areas would send patients over to Cayes Jacmel, knowing Tom and their team would fix them up.  It was a nonpolitical effort of focusing on what needed to be done by all; the Canadian military did an outstanding job securing the area, getting runway lights (by the time Tom left) and opening the road back up to Port au Prince.  So it was a good trip.

But, it's never easy either.
I forgot...when he comes back from Haiti, there is always some re-entry decompressing and sorting out to do for him.  For anyone I expect.  It is exhausting as well as exhilarating, on all levels.

Evening at the Hands and Feet Children's Village project.

That's the nature of this sort of thing.  It happens whenever you (ok, I) travel outside of your sheltered, carefully crafted and whittled world - you/I have to recalibrate, take in all the sights sensations sounds smells, the spears that pierce your heart.  And then you/I have to sort of heal it up. For yourself/myself.  That is not to say that you make it all disappear.  It can't.

But... this trip is his story to tell.  I'm just observing from the sidelines.  But I see it, that jaggety little edge. And I want him to feel welcomed home, and have time to settle back in and refresh, recoup, re-enter life here too.  

It's the juxtaposition: the beauty and the hard.

 On all levels.

Just like when we've gone to Ethiopia and elsewhere....you get a little bit torn, a bit of you is sheared off.  And you have to learn to live around that scar once you are back home.

It takes a bit of time.
And even with all this, it's so worth it.
I am proud of him, and also so glad he's back.
And for Tom?  Well, he's a little tired, but happy too, quiet.
He said it's wonderful to be  home.

We think so too.

Rumours

Rumour has it that this guy, the cute one with the beard above, is heading home!  The team has caught up on all the orthopedic work in and around (folks were coming from hours around, very cool, and they were very glad to help) Jacmel and another orthopod is arriving today as well.  So, it seems it's time to come home.  We are glad. 

He has to wait at the Jacmel, Haiti airport for a plane and then talk them into a ride, wherever they might be going.  With luck, that will be Florida.  With a little less luck it might be the Dominican Republic.  With crazy luck it might be Nassau and then we will have to coax him back off the beach!  Anyhow, that's the rumour.  In fact, he is at the Jacmel airport with the team now.  So, not telling the kiddles yet, so as not to get hopes up.  But mine are!

And, just in the nick of time, if it happens.  As that other cute boy in the ND sweatshirt, above, my Buddybug....he's heading out for Rome to study for a semester early Friday morning.  And I just know his dad would love one more hug before he goes. 

Sunday in Haiti, Coffeedoc posts

A report from Tom, perfect for today, this Sunday:

 So I wondered where we might find a Mass this morning. Our hosts told us that they thought there was a Catholic Church just up the street. Ernest and I walked down there to see really early this morning so as not to miss an early morning mass. It was a church named after Santa Theresa of the child Jesus. Unfortunately, their priest wasn't going to be able to say Mass there today, covering other churches which have been destroyed by the earthquake I believe.

Church of St. Therese of the child Jesus, Jacmel,  Haiti

A man who was there, perhaps the sacristan, offered to take us up to where there was going to be a mass in Cayes Jacmel. We went out to the street and flagged down a "tap tap" which is Haiti's version of a taxi, kind of like the blue and white vans in Ethiopia.

 We drove for several miles and then got out. We walked up a dirt mountain road for another half mile to reach a clearing which was being used as the church since the church building had fallen.

 It was a beautiful service some of which I have video of. Here are some pictures.

 

 

Ernest at Mass.

I love you all and miss you.
Dad

Haiti: Corporate goodness and update

 

 Pic snagged from Cindy.  But it's got my Tom.  

On the plane, flying in.  That's Cindy next to him.  Thanks Cindy!

Got a call from Tom/Coffeedoc last night! Skype is an awesome thing.  We couldn't  see each other and the connection dropped a bunch of times, was spotty but heck, we talked with each other...caught up on the week.  Fantastic!

I wanted to mention a surprising bit of corporate goodness.  

It doesn't happen that often, maybe, nowadays and when it does I think it deserves a mention.  Southwest.  Yup, Southwest airlines.  

They did the right thing.

Tom and the team scrambled to get flights down to Ft. Lauderdale in order to meet the private plane down to Haiti. (See earlier post on that fiasco.  Thanks again Mike!) They had less than 24 hour notice to get the flights, gather the food, gear, meds, supplies, change their schedules and get to the airport.  Needless to say, any advance negotiation with the airline didn't even occur to us.  Doh.  

As we pulled up to the airport, my very large suburban loaded to the rafters, to meet the team that had already offloaded another big load of supplies....we realized, uh-oh, this is gonna cost us.  Will they even be able to get the gear on the plane? Bag limits and all.  But there we were and so we were gonna give it a go and see how it played out.  

Well, it played out brilliantly.  

 By which I mean, a Southwest guy came right over to the car, heard that this was all to take to Haiti, and pulled over a huge luggage cart and started helping us unload the car.  No questions asked.  Helping tape up the tubs, fast.  (And, in typical style, we were very late on arrival, WELL inside that two hour, um, one and half hour window...what can I say, it was a scramble).  

Ernest, the CRNA on the team, came out to meet us (He arrived on time, ahem) and said that Southwest had already taken his big huge load of supplies, happily.  So Ernest, started helping too and we had that car unloaded in record time and they whisked tom inside to check him and all this extra stuff in.  I kissed him hard and said goodbye, holding my breath and beginning to tally a guess at the overcharge.  

Tom called me later to tell me the news:

Not only did Southwest help us out of the car in record time, they took every single box and tub.  They didn't blink.  And they didn't charge us a dime.  

NO CHARGE.

They took twenty-three extra tubs and boxes, adding up to a weight of 3/4 ton, and no charge, no trouble, no fuss.  They did it with a smile.  

Now.  That's corporate goodness worth smiling about and worth a shout. 

Good for them.  

So, go fly Southwest Airlines. 

They are doing their part to help too. Maybe in other ways as well, donating and so on.

But this week, this was a real help, in real time, for real people.

I've mentioned that its a logistical nightmare to get down to Haiti to help, much less with almost a ton of supplies and gear.  

But Southwest stepped up and  helped.

And it made a huge difference. 

So, thank you Southwest Airlines!!!

We think you are terrific!

And on another note: Cindy has a terrific update today and some fantastic pics!! (My personal fav, I shamelessly snagged, above).  Go see her, it's a great read to start the morning.

Haiti, trip report

Today I got pictures and an email from Tom! whoohoo!
They have limited net, spotty, but sometimes, so he sent me a short email and these pics.

Flying into Jacmel.

They are all doing great, very tired but good.
Tom says he forgot how noisy it is there in the morning with the cacophony of animals! Not much different from home, that...ahem.
Anyhow: here's the Haiti report today:

We're very limited in bandwith but actually have some, imagine!

We've greatly expanded a clinic that was left standing so that is now being used as if it was a hospital. Everything But surgery and two clinic rooms is taking place outside The 2 procedure rooms and another room have been converted into ORs. We and others have brought tons of gear -- we have most but not all things so we have to be creative, but we are doing surgery!

He sounds happy (tired, but still) to me. Surgical problem solving...and getting creative. He's good at that so I'm glad he's there. He does say however that it's crazy hot. And we are having a snow day here, waiting for a 'big storm.' Life is kinda crazy sometimes. But it's all good. And go read Cindy's blog for her report on yesterday, good stuff.

This is the blog

The other blog, I mean.
Not  mine.  But Cindy's.  Cindy the nurse who went with them to Jacmel.
It's called Haiti's Surgery Blog.

She's gonna try to post daily, no promises, but she's gonna give it a go.
And if she can, it will be here.  {And she doesn't even know me/us, so this blog would be a more objective report. no?  If Tom's causing trouble,  you'll see it here first! ha!}
So, go, read, pray for them too if you're of the mindset.
That's my husband over there (in the pic below, jacket/beard), and I'll appreciate it too.

Cindy is the gal in the blue.  

I haven't met her, but can only guess she's terrific.

This is the orphange/children's village where they are staying.

It's called Hand and Feet and it's totally cool.
I didn't know of it, but now am quite the fan!
It's an orphanage but more a 'children's village" where the kids can grow up safe and educated, in loving homes, in their home country.  Awesome.

Go, read, look, see, pray, support, donate even. 
Great stuff there. 
Heroes on the ground.
One of the fantastic things to come out of a horrendous crisis: finding out about new amazing organizations and people who are quietly changing the world...like the folks behind this children's village.  Just cool.

This is the Plane

Not the greatest pic, it was early and on a phone..but its them.

This is the plane.

This is the plane that took the team to Haiti.

 This is the pilot.

This is the pilot that flew the plane.

This is the pilot that answered the call.

This is the pilot that answered the call, that flew the plane, that took the team to Haiti.

These are (some of) the pallets.

These are the pallets that are part of the supplies.

These are the pallets that are part of the supplies, that were flown by the pilot, that answered the call, to fly the plane, to take the team to Haiti.

This is the team.

(photo h/t: Cindy)

This is the team that went with the pallets, that were flown by the pilot, that answered the call, to fly the plane, to take the team to Haiti.

OK OK

You get the idea.  (Sorry, it's been that kind of week, getting punchy.)

It's a team effort and a logistical nightmare to get a team to Haiti!

But I want to throw out a "hooray for you" and special notice to the pilot here.

He answered a call, at the last minute, for help.

Tom and the team arrived in Fort Lauderdale expecting to fly out early yesterday morning (wed the 27th).  The private corporate jet that was scheduled to take them to Jacmel was snagged by, um, corporate stuff of some sort.  So there they were, w/ over a ton of supplies: 3/4 ton medical, food, etc.

All ready to go.

But no plane no plane!

Finally this pilot came through.

ALL the way from DALLAS!

He flew in, and they were racing the sun.

They had to get the plane loaded and refueled in time to land and take off in Jacmel.  No runway lights in Jacmel, of course.  Well, it wasn't happening.  The sun was setting.  But this morning, they did it.

They took off.  Cheering all around.

And the other part that no one will ever see is that this pilot, Mike Gibson, will also make a second trip today.  That second trip is just as important as the first.  All those supplies couldn't fit on that plane, and the team, in one trip.  So he is dropping the first load and the team, returning to Ft. Lauderdale, loading the rest up and flying back to Jacmel.  Today.  Before the sun sets again.  Whew. I'm tired just thinking about it.

Good for him!

Good for him for doing this, at huge personal expense - both time AND money.

So I want to say hooray for him!

This is his biz.  Go here.

If you need a small plane and are in the area,  go use his biz.

I'm thinking he's a good guy, a good egg.

So, Mike, thank you!

That's Michel Gibson,  of Michels Aviation

Go, fly with him.

Coffeedoc and the team did!

And I just got a text, they are in Jacmel, Haiti, safe and sound.  

Thanks Mike!

Feast of St. Thomas Aquinas

It's the Feast day of St. Thomas Aquinas!

Now there are many reasons to be fond of St. Thomas Aquinas, especially here in our little/big family.  First off, of course, there is my dearest Coffeedoc, who, as we all know, is really named Thomas.  Such a great name. 

Other reasons run from loving the Dominicans, in general, and these ones, in particular.....to the fact that he is a patron of scholars and academics, he was underestimated and considered to be slow; dim even. 

 Our wonderful Nashville Dominicans....love them!

Little did his contemporaries know, he was a genius.  A future Doctor of the Church; by which I mean, he is an "authorized teacher" of the Church.   You want to learn good solid doctrine? Go read up on some St. Thomas Aquinas! Anyhow, this silent genius was also made fun of, just like so many of us, he was um, larger than the standard....and between his silence and his bulk he was often called the "Dumb Ox."  Awwww.  That's just mean.  And at University!  Sheesh!

Anyhow, the point being: he is a saint for us all.  If you a hyper intellectual, a struggling student, someone struggling with their excess girth, ahem, someone who is underestimated, bullied, someone trying to live a chaste life (Which we all should, but that's another post.  And get your mind out of the gutter, "chaste" doesn't have to mean prudish or pathetic.), teachers, Italians, aficionados of Italy....you name it.  In our house we will have a particular devotion to St. Thomas, asking him for prayers for our Buddybug as he ventures forth, all too soon, to study here for a semester. 

But really, almost any way you look at it, or him, St. Thomas Aquinas is a good egg, all around.   

St. Thomas Aquinas is a saint to learn a bit more about, and one much needed in our confused post modern times.

Happy Feast Day!
St. Thomas Aquinas, pray for us!

Ordinary Heroes?

They are all around us.  Unexpected, surprising...heroes.  
You hope for them, you pray for them.  And then, there they are and you kind of stand there with your mouth open in amazement.  I do, anyhow. 

Two young girls.  My girls.  These are their heroes, mine, ours.  
I'm talking about the teachers, the school principals, the aides, the special ed teams.
I'm finding these folks who are willing to go the extra mile, think outside the box...and they amaze me.
My gratitude for them is kind of unspeakable.
And some of them I've known, or thought I did, for a while, years even.
Some of them are new to me; but I'm so glad to meet them and start working with them. 

And the most important part is that these folks, the reason they are heroes??
It's that they defy the stereotypes.
I'm talking about those horror stories that are hyped in the media and played out in stupid sophomoric movies: the public school ones, the Catholic school ones.  You've all seen them, I have too.  We've been soaked in them.

And it's all too easy to buy into them, just a little bit.  Maybe I did.  Maybe I shouldn't have, but I did.  I was kind of worried about what the public schools would be like as I approached them about my girls.  What sort of things and folks would I find in searching out resources for the special needs that we have?  Would I be able to get the Catholic school, the Sisters and teachers, to step outside their comfort zone of a small private school? The kind of school with strict historic ways and boundaries?  Could those boundaries be pushed?
I didn't know.

But I can now say, that I have been delightfully surprised, thrilled with the amazing people I've been meeting and getting to know.  These are the folks who are working with my two girls, so far, who are helping us all break down some barriers and think outside the box for some great kids who don't fit the 'standard mold," if there is one.  These folks, are helping my girls get into school, get BACK into school....and to succeed.

I've homeschooled a long time. I love homeschool and always will be a proponent of it, but it's a per kid per year per circumstance decision. But homeschool isn't working for these two, now.  So, it's been hard to find the right fit.  And there will be adjusting to be done, to be sure.

But these folks, and their willingness to be open to working with my girls, with us....they are breaking stereotypes, they defy them.  They are ordinary, or actually, extraordinary, heroes.
We are so grateful, for them all:

Nora.  Right there.  Saints among us. 
Sister Peter Marie, Ms. Freeman, Sister Peter Verona, Mr. Linville, Ms. Rosenblatt, Ms. Wehby, Ms. Christy, Coach, Father Gideon at SJV....and of course, Miss Deb.

Mr. Turner, Ms. DeVore, Mr. Verner, Ms. Blair, Ms. Oglesby at RSM

 And Mrs. Swafford, Ms. Ingham, Ms. Ashley, Ms Thomas, Ms. Apple at Howard.  

You are all heroes.  Extra-ordinary folks doing an amazing job.  Breaking stereotypes, opening eyes.  Quiet ones, maybe.  But heroes in my/our eyes!
My girls are back in school again, a new start for them.

A start offered, "whatever it takes;" one done with extraordinary kindness and willingness to help.
Outside the box. 
These folks have brought huge grins and, literally, claps of happiness from my girls.
To be back in school, 'regular' school.
It means everything. 

Feast of the Conversion of St. Paul

 The Conversion of Saul
Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni
1542-45

Today is the Feast of the Conversion of St. Paul.
Now, we all know St. Paul, he's a big fish - so to speak.  No matter your denomination, he's a 'heavy hitter.'  But I kind of like that today we are not remembering just him, but specifically his conversion.  And really, this IS one of the really fascinating things about Paul, for me anyhow.  Maybe because I am SO resistant to change.  And Paul, he should be (if he isn't already) the patron saint of change, of stubborn people, of opinionated strong-willed folks.  Oh gee, maybe he's been one on MY patrons all along and I am only now figuring it out.  Doh!

But I digress.  Anyhow.  Paul's conversion fascinates me.  It resonates with me.  Not because I'm all about persecuting innocent folks (I hope. Hush, Jon, I heard that!).  But rather, it's because he was SO sure he was right, and filled with such pride and anger and intent about it all.  It was his mission to search out and imprison Christians-followers of Christ.  He HATED them.

And I find that really so intriguing, and so telling, and apropos of today.  Isn't that just what is going on today? In our modern, oh-so-enlightened, world?  We all do the same darn thing.  Sometimes even to the same levels of persecution and self-righteous surety.  Even the hate.  But the point is just this: Saul/Paul (he was born Saul, of course, and renamed Paul by Christ at his conversion) didn't KNOW.  He thought he knew it all, all about those Christians, all about what they were about.  But he was wrong.  He didn't KNOW them.  His hatred of them was manufactured from his own pride and ignorance and misguided ideas.

Oh.  Ouch.

How often do I do that?  Too often.
How often does the world, the media, the shouting commentator, do that?  All the time.

And I think that maybe we all need to get knocked off our horse now and then.  I know I do.  And really, literally, Saul was KNOCKED off his horse (which I just love, such a great real life thing to happen, sorry Paul, but I do, love that).  Blinded by the light of Christ.  And that light, really SEEING him, and being called by name by him...it changed everything.  It was Saul's conversion.  It converted his whole self, down to his very name.  And he let it.

He let it change him.

That's the second part of this that I have to just sit down and contemplate, for the rest of  my life.  Every day.  And still it will boggle my mind.  Because isn't that the hardest thing? Ok, for me, I think it is.  Change.  I struggle with it, all the time, every day just about.  I resist the big changes, drag my heels through them, or pretend I'm not resisting and steamroll through them to find the new (as close as possible to the old) normal to get back to my comfort zone.  I hate being out of my comfort zone.  Hate it.  But Paul embraced that, in a humbling yet total all-in way.  And in doing so, he changed the world. Whoa. That's something for me to think about.

So, enough blathering.  Enjoy this feast day.  I think it's a cool one, hip and modern in its own way.  Timeless.

Happy Feast of Conversion of St. Paul!
St. Paul, pray for us!

Old Dog, new tricks: potty training 107

New  underwear is so much fun.

Ok, I have to say it.  We've been potty training.  I wasn't gonna post on it, because it's just one of those things, right?  Well, I thought so. I mean, I've done this SEVEN times, right?  (Hence, the 107 in the title...erk) Right. 

But this time is different.  Not only because Gabey is a brilliant sweet charming talented child, and no I'm not biased, thank you for asking.  But it's different because, for the first time ever, it's been a snap.

Now, I hate potty training.  Because my nature is a lazy slug.  And potty training, it's messy.  And inconvenient.  Just contemplating it makes me want to go lie down.  And there are thousands of books on "how-to" and "Secrets-of" and advice out the wazoo.  I think somewhere on my shelves I own at least fifty of them. 

But, little did I know...there really IS a secret to potty training.  Ok, two.  The first one is not so much a secret: timing.  Ya gotta wait until the kid is ready.  I did have a go at it once or twice w/ Gabey over the summer.  Clueless.  Hopeless.  NOT ready.  We bailed.  And ya can't wait TOOO long (that was my mistake w/ oh, most of the others - except Miss M.  She did it on her own and told me after, I swear. At two. Brilliant girl.).  But, it's been cold and snowy and we've been hunkered down in the house and he just turned three.  Plus he's in a phase where he refuses to wear clothes.  So, apparently, it's time. Now.  Whoohoo!

{Yes, my house is a mess, it's that shedding clothes thing, what can I say?}

But here is the "new trick" for this "old dog."  And before I say it, I will point out that I realize it's one of those ridiculous  "everyone knows it but you" kind of things.  And I would also like to point out that I will - evenutally - overcome my resentment towards my friends failing to let me in on this.  And I might, someday, overcome the  humiliation of NOT knowing this.  I long ago accepted I was no "super-mom." This confirms it.  No matter how many kids I have.

So, here it is: BACKWARDS.

Backwards.  DOH! You put the kid on the toilet backwards!! Why didn't someone tell me? Ahem -Jean? Toni? All of you bloggy gals?  You can't presume I know ANYTHING.  I'm a dolt.  I had no idea!  Forget the tiny messy potties and the slippery seats and holding them up on the seat getting a cramp in your back from lifting them....let them climb on backwards, facing the tank!

GENIUS!

WHO KNEW??!!!

Ok, apparently, everyone!  This was a light bulb moment for me.
Thank you, finally, Jean.   
Maybe it's a southern thing?
Feel free to sound off here and let me know if its regional so I don't feel like a total dolt (tho I've lived in the south long enough to train a few and no one told me.  Not that I"m holding a grudge, Jean......).  Did you moms know about this?? Sheesh.  Well, I didn't.  But it totally was a light switch for my Gabey.  Ok, and me.  Hey, he can climb up on  his own, check everything out, feel secure.  Very empowering.  Done deal.  He's trained for daytime and almost for night.  In less than a week.  AMAZING!

So, for those of  you who share my prior lack of knowledge, I"m sharing.
For those of you who presumed we all know, you're wrong.
For me, I'm just celebrating.  Whew.

Marching today

It's the Annual March for Life today.

Coffeedoc, Buddybug, Bananas, her best friend, and Marta are all in DC, today, for this.

 {So, because things are hectic (as usual) and I really can't say this differently, I am reposting part of this from last year.}

This is from a year or so ago...I don't have ones fro this year yet, of course.

I try not to get too political on this blog.
But it is surely no surprise to anyone that our family, I, we, are pro-life.
We are Catholic.
The Catholic Church has made it's position on the spectrum of life issues very clear, very simple: All life is sacred. Period. Beginning to end. No matter what, where, who.
Simple.

And before you get started....I am quite clear on all the facets of this issue, and have worked through different things and thoughts about it all over the years.
But finally and fully, as a Catholic who has discovered the deep beauty and richness in the faith, I realized it IS simple. And for me, though I spent years having long and important discussions on all the angles of this and these issues, finally it hit home in the most visceral way possible.

Here:
This is why I am pro-life.
Look, really look, at these faces.
How can I not be?

 
And while the actual March for Life happens today, the more, the most, important event (some might argue this point, but I would disagree) happened last night: the annual Vigil and Mass for Life. 

 {Last night, waiting for Mass}

Last night at the Cathedral

In the packed Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, with Bishops and religious and just regular folks from all over (thousands upon thousands), all jam packed in to pray. 

[Last night, waiting for Mass to start]

They wait for hours (often 4-6) before the Mass even begins, just to make sure they have a spot. They pray, they talk and then, they pray in community: the Mass.  Even with that long wait, the enthusiasm is not dimmed.  (And, frankly, I believe this is the most powerful method of change.  Marching is good, graphic gruesome pics are off-putting and are not, but prayer is best.  It works.  Coming together in force to pray....priceless.)

 {Last night, waiting for Mass to begin}

There is also a Youth Rally and Mass for Life the next morning (today) the day of the March. Here's a snip from last year.  Our Lady of Guadalupe, protector of the unborn, pray for us. 



And, if you can't make it in person, your voice can still be heard...this site has a way to "be there" virtually, with an avatar even (how hip), and march in solidarity.  (thanks Shannon!)

Feast of St. Agnes

El Greco, St. Agnes.

Today is the feast of St. Agnes.
St. Agnes is a patron of many, but most especially apropos today: of young girls and also those victims of sexual assault.  Considering the news of the disaster in Haiti and the spinoff news and reality of the vulnerable children stranded by this crisis there....St. Agnes and her prayers are much needed. 

St Agnes (- 304)

Agnes was filled with the love of God from an early age, vowed herself to celibacy, and when the opportunity of martyrdom arose, she did not hide away but stepped forward and took it.

  That is really all that is known: but it is enough. We who are used to compromising with the world at every turn, and would find excuses to avoid any inconveniences that our faith might cause us, let alone martyrdom (“yes, of course I would die for my faith in principle, but wouldn’t I be able do more good in the long run if I stayed alive just now?”), should admire the simple wisdom of Agnes, realise that there are moments where compromise and moral ambiguity just will not do, and pray for the strength to live up to such moments when they happen. 
From Universalis, Commentary, Office of Readings

 St. Agnes, pray for us.
Pray for the Haitian earthquake victims, especially the children.

 

Not very Wordless Wednesday

...creepy Baby Alive edition.  Notice elated daughter....these are twins...

now we have three Baby Alive dolls. 

They're multiplying.....(insert Twilight Zone theme here)......

To meme the impossible meme

One word.

Yeah, right.
Jen tagged me and I had to laugh. She's a good friend, and I love her blog too, go visit.

But......Me, one word? Maybe she's trying to tell me something. Cmon, you all put her up to it, right? "Get that Coffeemom to pull it down. One word, please!" I know.
So, I"m a good sport. I'll give it a go. No promises tho.

Besides the news has been so hard, a little lightheartedness is nice to surf.
One word is all you need. Shouldn't be so hard. Well, here you go. My answers to the questions that required one word answers- more difficult than you think. :)

1. Where is your cell phone? desk

2. Your hair? messy

3. Your mother? big-hearted (hypenated words are counted as one, right? ack, see, number three and I've already blown it. Sigh)

4. Your father? Loyal

5. Your favorite food? Bread

6. Your dream last night? Unsettling

7. Your favorite drink? Coffee!

8. Your dream / goal? Organization

9. What room are you in? Study

10. Your hobby? Reading

11. Your fear? rats (And opossums, which are essentially large rats.)

12. Where do you want to be in six years? Italy. Ok, no, here.

13. Where were you last night? Bananagrams tourney

14. Something that you aren't? type B (jen's. I'm stealing it too)

15. Muffins? Toast

16. Wish list item? Sugar. Always sugar.

17. Where did you grow up? Arizona

18. Last thing you did? emailed

19. What are you wearing? Jeans

20. Your TV? On

21. Your pets? dog, cat


22. Friends? Long-suffering, patient treasures

23. Your life? Unspeakably blessed

24. Your mood? Distracted

25. Missing someone? Sister


26. Vehicle? Yukon XL

27. Something you're not wearing? warm enough clothes

28. Your favorite store? Bookstore

29. Your favorite color? Indigo

30. What was the last time you laughed? Last night

31. Last time you cried? Yesterday

32. Your best friend? Coffeedoc


33. One place that I could go over and over? Carlsbad

34. One person who emails you regularly? Jen

35. Favorite place to eat? Paris, no Italy, no Boston, no San Fran.....(I can't pick, I love to eat.)

I'm not passing the award. I mentioned that I wasn't caffeinated enough yet right? Besides, I know how hard it is.....

Video: Haiti Needs Your Help

Video: Haiti Needs Your Help

Posted using ShareThis

On Haiti

 

Photo by Reuters/Jorge Silva, courtesy www.alertnet.org

We are all - in our homes, across the blogosphere, around the world - praying and watching and agonizing over Haiti and the incomprehensible anguish there.  

It weighs down our hearts and minds.  So little, it seems to be done.

However, for what it's worth, here is a great organization:  

Catholic Relief Services.

They are on the ground in Haiti, intact.  They have had offices there for a long time and have a history of great work, around the world, but even more pertinent now, in Haiti.  

Their offices are intact.  They are there, front lines, now.

 CRS staff load a truck with meals-ready-to eat for medical staff 

at St. Francois de Sales hospital on Friday, January 15. 

The hospital is supported by CRS’ AidsRelief program. Photo by Lane Hartill/CRS

[First responders, working NOW, reputable, well respected, well managed organization.  The money doesn't go to administration costs, it goes to NEED.]

Go, donate.

You can trust that the donation (any amount helps) will be put to the best of use by the folks who are there and know the needs and how to make it happen.

We trust them completely.  Catholic Relief Services: Good people. Good organization.

Go, help.

Every little bit is needed.

Another way to help is, of course, to pray. I firmly and deeply believe, I know, it makes a difference.  We are connected.  Prayer helps, in ways we cannot fathom.

So, if you have a mind towards it, please keep Haiti in your prayers.

From our Pope Benedict:

"I would now like to make an appeal regarding the dramatic situation in Haiti. My thoughts go out in particular to the people severely afflicted, just a few hours ago, by a devastating earthquake that has caused massive loss of human life, left a great number of people homeless, and left widespread tremendous material devastation. I invite everyone to unite themselves to my prayer to the Lord for the victims of this catastrophe and for those who mourn the dead. Be assured of my spiritual closeness to those who have lost their homes and to all people suffering in any way from this grave calamity, as I ask God to grant them consolation and relief amidst their suffering. I call upon the generosity of all so that our brothers and sisters living in this time of need and pain may not lack our concrete solidarity and the effective support of the International Community. The Catholic Church will not fail to take immediate action through her charitable institutions to meet the most pressing needs of the people." -- Pope Benedict XV 

{h/t to Curt Jester} 

Update:

Go, HERE, to read the Zenit article/interview with Cardinal Cores on the Haiti Crisis.

"All Eyes on Haiti."  A thoughtful interview, good information and things to think about as well.

About those New Year's Resolutions...

I don't do 'em.

A classic, from Bill Watterson's Calvin and Hobbes

But more because I am lazy and impatient, (ok, a slacker) rather than any formed ideological stance.

Just so ya know.....

Almost Wordless Wednesday

Because we're just fun like that.

Changing the Trajectory

 One of our referral pics.

So, our little Gabey Baby is now three, of course.  We did the birthday post and all that fun.
But today we went to the doc for his well baby checkup (And on time, I'd like to point out! A rare occurrence.).
And, no surprise to me, the doc pointed out that  he is super healthy and strong and smart and well.

And Gabriel has grown. 
Not only has he grown older and faster and funnier, he has grown taller and chubbier and healthier.
Not only has he grown in his quirks and climbing ability and refusal to wear clothes....but he has grown, bodily, right off the tracks.

 Gabey and me, at Kolfe meeting Ashalew, Kathy Wolf's son.

This is the sweet priceless benefit of home. 
Of family.  Of love and a warm  house and plentiful food and a HOME.  
Gabriel has gone from a smallish "almost 50th percentile" in height and weight, to a healthy robust thriving 75th percentile height and weight. 

His trajectory has changed. 
This is the benefit of a home, for an orphan.
This is the benefit of a home, for us all.
Studies have shown this happens, and it's a gift to see it play out in person.
His trajectory was changed in so many ways, not the least of which is truly, literally physical.

And the unspoken, not so secret benefit of Gabriel being home, is our trajectory was changed, forever, too.  We love this boy.

Ordinary Time

Today begins Ordinary Time, liturgically speaking.
Christmas season is over.

Lent has not yet begun (Feb 17.  Six weeks soon!).
This is the time between.  And for a long time, I used to kind of feel...bereft.  Like, 'So, what now?"

Yeah, there's the whole resolution thing ('nother post, that).  There's the whole gung ho, 'get it together' push from the culture at large.  Lose weight, get in shape, get organized, get back at it, get sharp, ya da ya da.  But, after all the richness and hoopla of Christmas...it's easy to be kind of deflated, just a little anyway.  Or it used to be, spiritually, for me. Because, liturgically, this was kind of an undefined time for my senses.  And that made it hard for me to get a handle on it all....prayerfully speaking.  Where's the focus anyhow? 

But ya know, one of the real perks of getting to be such an old crone is that some things come into focus.  And one of them is the beauty of Ordinary Time.

Because Ordinary time is.....ordinary.
I know I know....all you academics and intellectuals out there will direct me to the doctrinal underpinnings of this.  And those are great.  But I'm talking about just my whirly thoughts about it all and where my mind goes with all this.

Because it's an interesting concept: Ordinary Time.  Why bother with even trying to think about it..isn't it just TOO dull?  Maybe not.  Maybe it's where the deepest beauty really runs, in some ways...the contentment, the rich, the fullness, the joy.  And really, to really truly find that deep contentment, don't you have to kind of live in the moment?  Now?  In the ordinary stuff and fluff and mire of every-day.  Every day?  Um, I think so.  And, for me at least, that is really a MUCH bigger challenge than being swept along by the rich pageantry and bounty of traditions that are tied to Christmas.   My mind tends to dwell in the near future, what's just ahead....much like a never stopping gerbil mill, around and around and around it goes. 

 And I only really have come to recognize the potential worth of this very ordinary-ness as I've aged up a bit and slowed down a bit and, honestly, gotten more and more mired in the most mundane of daily tasks and minutiae.  Sometimes that very mire of the ordinary and mundane can seem to almost drown you (Ok, me).

But if I lift my head, and slow down and try to be present in that ordinaryness, without having to try to knead it into something else, something bigger or more grand....if (And here's the catch, for me) I ACCEPT IT..... then, and only then, can I catch a glimmer of it's beauty.  Of the quiet goodness of it.  Or the loud goodness of it, as the case may be (Very rowdy boys in my house, ahem).

Anyhow, so I have kind of grown to like this season.  And I think it's fitting that it begins in the dormant quiet of winter. I need this time too to bundle up, cozy in, slow down. I need to retrain my mind to quiet.  I need to retrain my mind to accept, this moment, good or bad, right here, right now.  Because it's that lying low, fallow, and quieting - inside - that I struggle to find and hold onto.

But it's a new season, starting today (or technically, last night after vespers...thanks Buddybug).
To embrace the very ordinary time of my days....that's where I find the treasures.

Baptism

Baptism of Christ, painting by Juan Fernandez de Navarrete.

Today is the Solemnity of the Baptism of our Lord.  

This marks the end of the Christmas season.  Our tree came down today.  (The lights on the house will soon follow...no, really).  The nativity sets and ornaments packed away safely in tissue, the stockings gathered and stowed.  

 

Tomorrow begins Ordinary Time.  And, I'm ready.  It's time.  

So, for today, Pope Benedict says it best:

 

"This...is the mystery of baptism; God desired to save us by going to the bottom of this abyss himeself so that every person, even those who have fallen so low that they can no longer percieve heaven, may find God's hand to cling to and rise from the darkness to see once again the light for which he or she was made."

Whew.  The best gift of Christmas.  

Don't let go.

Happy Bday to Our Gabriel!

Our Gabriel Louis Tariku is 3 today!

And a very happy 3 year old is he!

He has been home with us now, from Ethiopia, for just about eighteen months.

That time has flown, because we are having FUN!
He is a funny quirky smiling wild sweet boy.
He loves his mama, that's me!
Ok, he loves the rest of the family too, but I relish that beaming love coming my way.
His best friend in the world is his big brother, Little Man.
They tumble like puppies throughout the house, all day long.
It makes us crazy sometimes.
Gabey will launch flying tackles at Little Man, who is twice his size.
Unfazed if he misses, laughing if he brings him down...up again for the chase.

Our Gabey Baby....not such a baby anymore:
Crazy for dinosaurs, but a little bit scared of the dark.
Crazy for chocolate and will sniff it out, find it, and gobble it up before you can blink or take it away.

Crazy fast for a little guy with such short legs.
Crazy for cars and trucks and balls.
Crazy in love with our old retriever; kind of torturing her with his overdose of affection.
Crazy about our cranky old cat: he is our "cat whisperer."

Funny faces and a big huge laugh
And frankly, the loudest kid we've ever had, and that's really saying something to beat Bananas.

A nudist for now, unwilling to keep clothes on of any sort, despite the dipping temps.
A destroyer of worlds, everything in his path left in post tornado levels.
A climber, a jumper, a daredevil...I'm a little worried about this one.

Gabey is my cuddly little guy, wanting and needing me to cuddle him to sleep and I can't resist (this is how you spoil your last one).
He is cute and knows it, and works it.
He has never met a stranger, makes friends with everyone.

He is talking a mile a minute now, quoting Shakespeare and lengthy passages from novels.
Ok, maybe not quite, but sounds like.
He is stubborn, strong willed, relentless in his badgering for an answer.
We feel these skills will come in handy someday....just need much channeling now!


Our Gabriel.  
It's your birthday!

That means Mickey Mouse cake and hoopla, because you LOVE Mickey Mouse.
And your favorite food other than chocolate: pizza (because I'm nixing the fries).

 

We wish you a happy happy third birthday, our Gabriel.

We love you so very much!!!!

Bloggy Road Trip

I am doing a guest post today!  Who'da thunk it!?
No kidding.   Yup, surprised me too..but I'm  honored (and shocked and surprised...another mini "Sally Field" moment).
Lisa at "A Bushel and a Peck" asked me to babysit a post day on her blog while she's out of town.
So, I'm no fool, I said "You betcha!"

Now if you all haven't checked out her blog, you should go, right now.  (No, not only to read my post...) You should bookmark it and check it daily, or at least really really often.  She is one of  my daily hits and mom heroes.  She has eleven beautiful kids and is a talented, amazing mom.  She is an inspiration to me; and a great resource both for regular old family stuff, larger family ideas, and also the full spectrum of adoption topics. 

My post today, on her blog, is another about older child adoption and adjustment.  About the dance of older child adjustment.  I've written about the dance of waiting, here.   But now that dance has changed.  It's a very different sort of dance indeed.  Go, read, let me know what you think.  Say hello to Lisa for me and update your blog list if she's not on it.  You'll be glad you did.

The Grieving of Christmas

Christmas is a time of deep joy and deep pondering and intense giddy highs.
Especially with children.

But so too it can be a time to step into the deeps, Christmas. It is also the time, for some, of some depression and hard periods if you've suffered loss (family, work, health). 
For a relatively newly-adopted older child, it is still a time for the giddy highs....but oh, it is so much the time for grieving.
Deep, unbidden grieving.

This grief seems to come at them, and me, when you least expect it.
Which of course means that they/I should begin to expect it, right?
Except, you can't.
Or, I can't.
And really, I don't think she can either.
Because I cannot begin to comprehend it, not really...as I have not personally experienced such loss or trauma, not even close.
I cannot begin to really measure the depth of it.
Or the breadth, even.
So, we both get kind of gobsmacked by it all.

And all we can do is brace for it as it swells and overtakes.
And, sigh.  And try, to hold on...to what we know, to each other.
Hang on, soothe, redirect, wait, hold, endure. 
Sounds easier than it is.
Because it's exhausting.
It's the hardest of work of course, for both of us.

And it's padded all around by woolly tufts of good and happy true grins and recognition of comfortable new grooves being laid down. 
But those chasms, they are deep and dark, with jagged tearing edges.
They hurt.
They ache.
They make me ache.
They make her ache even more.
They are exhausting.

And while it's oh so easy for me to throw the pity party and say, gosh Christmas this year was so hard...to grieve myself for what I wanted it to be, only....
I think in a way that Christmas, this Christmas, was a chance to actually live Christmas more, um,  accurately.
Because I guess it's closer to a truer Christmas, really, with both the joy of the birth/bringing of a new child into a family...and the cross that each child brings and that we all have to bear.
We bear it for ourselves and for each other.
So, I choose to reframe it, our Christmas, this year.

So, today, the last day of the Octave of Christmas, I can say:
Christmas at our house was crazy busy,
full of work,
full of fun,
full of highs,
full of lows,
full of grief.
Christmas at our house was exhilarating.
It was exhausting.
Christmas at our house was glorious.

Happy Bday Nancy and Happy New Year!

Happy Happy Birthday to my best and only sister, Nancy!
(It's ridiculously hard to get a picture of us, as we are both too vain, so this is it.)

I cannot keep track of precisely how old you are (you're welcome)...
But of course, the critical point is that you are, still, ever, older than me!
And since you always have and will relish that bossy pants older sister role, I get to relish being younger.
Fair's fair in sisterhood, after all!

But, you are truly my bestest friend.
You are my role model for successful modern gal.
You, the high falutin' attorney...partner in your own firm, in the media often, LA Unified's secret weapon.
You juggle it all, and don't quit.
You are Miss Fashion, always and forever.
And I will always be a little covetous of your closet.
You have me hooked now on great bags (And, happily, provide them for me).
You have a  huge heart and are generous beyond measure.
You are hard driving, opinionated, funny, but kind.

You are always, without fail, there for me when I need it.
You pick me up when I fall.
And you roll your eyes and put up with my crazy ideas and efforts.
And while over the years you have scolded me, countless times, for my lack of fashion know-how or interest, and for my lack of hairstyle or color...you have come to terms with my frump and now we are looking to our future as little old ladies together.
This will equalize that style field!
We are both kind of losing our minds at the same time.
It's a comfort.
We can and do talk about anything and everything.

And I simply don't know what I'd do without you.
Happiest birthday wishes to my dearest sister.
I love you so much and am unspeakably grateful for you.
I hope all your bday dreams come true.

Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God

Happy New Year!

And Happy Feast of Mary, Mother of God.

Sounds simple, a no brainer right?
Doh....Mary gave birth to Jesus.  Yup. We're n the midst of the whole Christmas season, surrounded by nativity scenes, Mary pregnant on the donkey, Baby Jesus in the manger....that's the quintessential "mom" scene.
This IS one of the uber Catholic solemnities....one of the ones that cause some division.  But in my humble opinion, that division is not justified; it's a tempest in a teapot (to use momspeak).  So, why the big deal..."Mary, Mother of God?"

Well that term took some theological argument discussion.  Ages ago, literally.  Way, way, before the "Big split (into the whole Protestant/Catholic deal)." Even way before any real divide between Eastern and Western Christianity.   Because it speaks to Jesus and his Divinity and while it seems obvious, it wasn't so much...and you know, folks like things really pinned down officially and academically.  Hence, long ago - 431 AD - they even held a council of the bishops of the world, those who had received the faith, entrusted to them, on down in succession from the Apostles, to officially pin this all down.  Because someone was teaching that Jesus wasn't divine from the moment of his conception or even birth, but taught that he was elevated to divinity later.   Was Jesus divine from the moment of his conception, or was he born only human?  Did Mary give birth to a human person or a divine person?  Was Mary, or was she not, in that sense, "Mother of God?"  Can we even speak those words?  Well, God chose and prepared her for Himself, from all the women of all time, to be the bearer of His Son.  And while the first person of the Trinity, God the Father is the sole source of Jesus' divinity, from "in the beginning", and Mary the sole source of his humanity, by the power of the Holy Spirit these two natures are inseparably, indivisibly, united in the one person Jesus Christ from the moment of His conception -- thus declared the great council of Ephesus.  And as God's Son is Divine and not only human, well, then Mary properly IS to be called the Mother of God.

The precise title “Mother of God” goes back even further, at least to the third or fourth century. In the Greek form Theotokos (God-bearer), it became the touchstone of the Church’s teaching about the Incarnation. The Council of Ephesus in 431 insisted that the holy Fathers were right in calling the holy virgin Theotokos.

Really, it just remains kind of mind blowing to me.  Mary had the choice to say, "Um, nope, not doing this, too hard, too strange...really?  Mother of God?  I don't get it....let me think about it."  But she didn't.  She said "Yes." "Fiat."  And thus the world began to be brought back into the proper order and we were all given the best present ever.

        "Long lay the world, in sin and error pining,
               'til He appeared, and the soul felt it's worth"

So today I am looking at icons.  Because today, on the last day of Christmas, we celebrate the mother, the Theotokos, the "Mother of God."  And really, icons are about the only way to begin to wrap your mind around all this.  Because who can imagine God, really?  You can't. I can't -- not really as He is.  And as soon as you think you are...well,  you've fallen into presumption now, haven't you?  So, icons are perfect for today.  They function as "little windows into heaven."  Icons (Ikonos -- Images, in Greek) are images of the true Ikon, the one who images the Father, the one who shows us the Father, the face of God, that he revealed to the world "in the fullness of time" born of a woman, of a pure and holy virgin.  Whom He loves more deeply, more perfectly than any other son loves his mother, and whom "all generations shall call blessed".

They are not meant to be realistic or have realistic lifelike perspective.  They represent what we cannot fully see with just our own eyes and senses; they image the world beyond the veil, the divine, the eternal.  And so today I want to look at these icons and ponder them.  Ponder what it means for her to be the Mother of God, the Theotokos...what faith and trust it took to say 'fiat', 'be it done unto me according to thy word.'  To contemplate the fullness of it all and take maybe one or two (or the multitude that I need) lessons from it. 

Today ends the Octave of Christmas.  The new year is launched.  It is set in motion with a remembrance of the greatest faith and hope and love.  We step into the new year on the right foot, so to speak.  Today we celebrate mom, Mary.  I like that so much.  And, it's really no coincidence that it's also the World Day of Peace.  Because we mom's, we are all about peace: the seeking, the getting, the craving, the searching, the making of peace.
Peace almost always begins with the mom.

Thus, we need today's World Day of Peace and New Year to coincide with the Solemnity of the Mother of God.  It's a big job, a big day.  We need the the biggest hope and love of the best mother....because she brings us her Son. 

Happy New Year!

Happy Feast day!

Wishing us all a peaceful day and new year to come!

Happy Bday Dad!

Happy Birthday to my Dad!

He is 78 years old today!

I think it's kind of special to have a birthday on New Year's Eve.
And it has made the day special to me, forever...because it's just my dad's day.
I love my dad.

He is generous and loves fiercely but quietly.
He is my riding buddy, we rode all over the desert and discussed both the family and the world's issues.
I think we solved them all...most of them at any rate.
He taught me about endurance...in running (he has completed many marathons and even multiple ultra-marathons) and life in general.
My dad is all about perseverance.
I got that from him.
Thank goodness!

He has my, or I have his, sugar tooth.
And the same diabetes, bummer.
We both love coffee, good strong coffee.
We both love mexican food and horses.
He is opinionated.
He is loyal, utterly.
His family is first, in everything.
He loves to read and to fall asleep early.
He is an early bird.
I would say I am much like him in all these traits...
But Dad is also meticulous, methodical, and all about order.
So, that is clearly where we diverge!

But I miss him today, well most days,

but I wish I could hug him in person, today,

and share a cup of coffee over the paper.

And yeah, I'm making tamales - his favorite - and the tradition for today.

I love you Dad!

Happy Happy Birthday!

Almost Wordless Wednesday

I think the girls had fun for their birthdays! 

Baby Alive twins, Fur Real Friends, Barbie Mania.

Doll-o-rama!

Happy Birthday Miss M!

Happy bday Miss M!
Today you are eleven!

I am so happy for you, I think you are ready for eleven.
Ten was good, but I suspect that eleven will be even better.
And yeah, I can't believe you are eleven already!

As you have told me, more than once, you are not just the usual eleven year old girl!

You are so right: you are remarkable.
You have the biggest heart I've ever seen, and an old soul.
You have more compassion, built in, than most folks I've ever met.

You worry and fret like an old lady, but in a good way.
You carry the burdens of others, sometimes too much.

You might tend toward a little bit of moodiness, but it's tempered by your love of a good joke.
I love it that I can almost always coax a smile out of your frown.
You are stronger than most, physically, but also in your character.
God has made you strong for big things ahead, I suspect.

You are a little mamacita, and you help me so much!
You love dolls though, still...and I love that you and your sister can play dolls for hours.
You still are crazy for mermaids!
You are a sophisticated eater, I love that.
You love coffee, almost as much as I do!
And that Latte Blast cake for your bday tonight?....YUM.
You are such a homeboday, and a great companion....
even as  you have already started traveling the world.

Eleven will be a good year, I know it.

You are becoming a great beauty, inside and out.

We are SO proud of you!

I hope all your  birthday wishes come true.

 

We love  you so very much.

Happy Happy Bday to my girl!

Octave of Christmas, day four: roundup

Merry Christmas to all!

Merry Christmas Birthday Baby Girl!

Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas to my Sbird!!

Eleven years old already!

My best Christmas present, ever!

It is such a special thing to have a Christmas birthday...but I know it doesn't always feel like it is. 
It feels like it can be forgotten in all the wrapping and busy and fun.
But it will never be forgotten.
It wouldn't even feel like Christmas now, without your birthday streamers and princess cake!
You, my sweet bird, are so special to me. To us.  To our family.

You, and your Christmas birthday, makes our Christmas extra special.
You are a remarkable young girl.
You are so strong, and work so hard.
You have a sweet good heart.
You try your hardest, every day.
And even when you get so mad sometimes, you always come back and make up with me.

You have a loving caring spirit.
You love to take care of smaller kids and are so good with babies.
You hate to see anyone or anything get hurt.
You love to sew and to make things.
You have an imagination and creativity as big as the Milky Way.

You are now eleven.
You, my tiniest baby, are growing so big...real double digits.
You have some big adventures, right ahead!
But even so you give me the best "morning squeeze" when we are up early in the kitchen.
And you still love playing dolls with  your sister, for hours at a time. 
I love that about you girls.

We love you so very much, our Sbird.
I think you are wonder-full.
We wish you the happiest of birthdays.
We wish for your birthday wishes to come true.
Even if it means that pineapple farm in Hawaii!

Happy Happy Bday Sbird!

We love you and are so proud of you!

Almost Wordless Wednesday

 

O Tannenbaum, part deux.

Decorating the tree (it turned out more, um, "petite" than expected, but still pretty)

with the traditional hot chocolate by the twinkling lights after.

Ah, tradition.

O tannenbaum!

So, Sunday was the big Christmas tree expedition.  My husband, otherwise known as Coffeedoc, is a bit of a maniac about some things.  So he has decided that it is not properly Christmas without an "over the river and through the woods" sort of experience...to cut the tree.

See that snow? That's because in order to CUT (not buy, he doesn't want them precut in November because he is also a maniac about keeping that tree up until epiphany - or beyond) the tree that I like (Frasier Fir), he has to drive over three hours.  Now, before you go and think I am a completely outrageous diva for demanding this...let me clarify.  I NEVER ASKED him to schlep drive so far for a tree.  I am, always, just happy to have a tree, any tree (though preferably not pine....oops, a diva slippage). 

Anyhow, it is becoming something of a new tradition and I kind of like it.  But then again, I get to stay home and wrap presents and hang out with Miss M and Gabey Baby.  A very lovely relaxing day for us.  And while there IS a certain level of grouchiness as they all set out on the expedition, ahem, it makes for a good snowball fight once they are there.

It was Marta's first time with snow,  and snowballs.  It was cold, fun, exhausting...and they came home with a pretty tree.  So, now, it's beginning to look a lot more like Christmas!

Dark into Light

It's the "shortest"day of the year.  The least amount of daylight, the longest night.

And it's perfect timing I'd say.   No only because today has been metaphorically a darker day - a slamming day filled with tantrums, sulks, and intensive parenting...but because it's when I begin to crave the light when the dark is too long.  We are made for it.  I need it, on so many levels.  From the purely physical level of dismay,"Gosh how can it  be dark already?" to the mildy fussy blue overtone of my mood for the day.  I am craving more light, both inside and out. 

That, that craving, is really what Advent is all about, it's what it's made for.  So too, we are made for the light to come...in a few days.  Christmas is almost here, Advent is waning.  The dark night is long, and these last few days it's nice to have that anticipation built in - even to our world's own nature, and ours.

Yes.  I'm ready for Christmas.  Not ready, yet, for the details of the day....soon, soon.  But for the main event? You betcha.  I'm ready.  Today, the shortest day of the year, we get one big step closer to it.  Each day, a tiny incremental bit brighter, longer.  And then, it's Christmas day and that Light only continues to lengthen and grow.  One of my favorite Christmas, or more accurately, Advent hymns is "O Come Emmanuel," and now, just yesterday, does our Church begin to sing it...in anticipation. 
I can't wait.

The turn-keys: Tears

So, here we are again.  Turn-keys.  Those things that I'm finding to be critical, yeah - Key - to our adjustment with this older child adoption. I've written about a couple already, here, and here.  And now, I want to write about another: Tears.

What? Tears?
How can those be so important?
Well, they are.
Yeah, it surprises me too.

I am learning that those tears are very important, critical, on different levels and in different ways.  Those tears are part of the adjusting, and I am not sure you can really adjust to all the new of an adoption without them.  And those tears are for everyone, of course.  Because each person in the family needs them....to process the intensity of the changes and the building of new relationships. Now I'll spare  you the blathering about the tears of the rest of us: the jealous tears, the overwhelmed, the frazzled, the blue ones (yeah, it's tough on moms too).  Those are fodder for a different post.

With a younger child, toddler or infant adoption, there are also many tears.  They are also critical to the adjustment process.  But they are easier to parse out, to understand.  They are typically more, not completely, but a bit more developmentally tracked and explained.  They are simpler because the child is still slightly simpler.  No less heartbreaking, but easier to console and repair.   The tears of the turn-key I'm talking about here are the tears of the older adopted child.  In this case, our daughter.

It's hard to sort through all this coherently.  But I'll give it a go.
It seems like it wouldn't be complex, I mean, it's crying, right?
Crying is a no brainer.
Kids cry all the time.
They cry, you console.
Done.
Except, not.

When an adjusting older child cries, honestly, at first you kind of brace yourself in dread.  You wonder, and fear a little bit, is this going to slip into something bad?  Is it going to blow in like a hurricane - tank the day? Because you don't know this child so intimately yet. You haven't always seen this before.  And you know the potential.  So, you brace for it.....whatever IT is.  And sometimes, it IS something very hard: rage, deep scarred grief, irrational fear.  Sometimes, it's just overwhelmed or misconception or misunderstanding.  Sometimes, it's just mundane, but ever so powerful, hormones.  Or lack of sleep.  Or an incoming virus.  It's all over the map, crying.  Tears. 

Even so.  It's all good.  Seems counter intuitive.  Our (ok, my) first reaction might, or is, naturally to wish it away, to sigh, to find the fastest way around it all.  But, that's not necessarily the answer either.  Those tears are important.  If this child is grieving the life they left behind, no matter if that seems unlikely as that life might have been very very harsh, then that grieving must be done.  It's valid; that life was what they knew, loved (some parts) and grew to themselves in. 

It's all too easy to think of grief as a 'hanging on' to something.  It is and it isn't.  When done right, it's a 'hanging on' to the good, and letting go of the bad.  It's ok to miss the ones or the place  you loved.  And that can totally jive with learning to love new ones or new places.  But, I don't think it can be done without the tears of it.

Then there are the tears of rage and grief of the hurt - for both old and new hard things.  Those are kind of scary - for everyone.  And it's so hard to know how to help.  And I"m not sure there is any way to really truly help - at least in the overt sense.  You can't fix it.  I can't fix it, or what has happened.  But you/I can BE there.  Just be there.  Hold on to them, sit next to them, let yourself get their tears dripped onto you.

That, that mess, is a fix.  It's the only and best one.  Because you are there, they are not alone, and you're not gonna run away from it.  And so, it gets less scary, for both of you.  But, oh, those tears...they hurt.  Both of you. 

Then there are the new tears.  These are the tears that can be both wonderful and frustrating.  The frustrating ones are the ones that you, and maybe she, doesn't understand.  They just kind of spring up....from a misunderstanding, frazzled nerves, hormones.  From being a teen girl.  From sensory overload in a new country.   From language gap, culture gap....all sorts of gaps. Those too, mostly just need a little time, maybe a little space, maybe a time to hold or sit nearby.  They need to wash away....the weary effort, the bruised feelings.  And they do.  

Way back, oh 85 years or so ago, I learned in science class that water is the universal solvent.  Well, I would say that the water shed in tears, when you are talking about an older child adoption and adjusting, is one of the universal glues.  Can be.  Maybe not always (I'm talking about us, here, always, ever...that's all I know), but oh so often they are.  These tears are bonding.  The happy over the top joyful tears...they are  just fun.  They pull you all in with a grin.  But the other kind....It's hard not to care about a child who is sobbing next to you (even when you wish it weren't so).  For the child to allow you to see them, hold them, at their most vulnerable....that is the beginning of trust.  For you to sit with them, hold them, get soaked by their tears...console them.  That is the beginning of family. 

A few days ago, a sibling moment occurred.  It was a pretty typical moment - if had happened between most of the kids.  However, it was the first between Marta and another.  And it was a a flash.  But, it cut to the quick for her.  It launched one of those tear spilling, walking away times.  It meant the evening would now be redirected.  And it was.  But, it was one of those turn-key times.  Because as I consoled Marta and talked to her about what happened, she slowly sat up in bed and hugged her pillow to her.  Then Bananas came in and flopped on her bed on the other side of the room they share.  And she saw Marta, still crying.  I said, "Has this happened to you?"  And Bananas laughed and said, "Oh yeah!  See, Marta, it's like this....." and she went on to act out the same interaction with the same sib.

And very soon, Marta was laughing with us as she snuffled up her tears, eyes red rimmed.  And I froze the moment in my mind.  These tears were healing.  These tears were bonding.  These tears were typical of any sibling scuffle.  And this image, two sisters laughing about a sib, both on their beds in pj's, while one allowed us to see her snuffling and gulping a bit as she came to calm, the other trying  hard to make her laugh and move on...that's a FAMILY.  That's what happens in families.  So, yeah, these tears: they helped turn a bit closer to family.  And I am grateful for even this tough turn-key.  Another one made of gold.

O, Christmas: O Antiphons

Last year I posted daily on the O Antiphons.  This year has been a bit too crazed for me to post daily on, um, anything!  However, my son, Buddybug, has.  So this is a shameless brag on my boy and a link to his site so you can get them there.  They really are beautiful.  Go, read, enjoy a little Christmas peace.  (And we'll find out just how he had time to post these during finals, later.)

Of Course I'm Interested: Now that's the kind of news I'm talking about!

So, did ya hear the news?
Did ya hear that now "they" are saying that coffee can help stave off type 2 diabetes?
Yessirree.....you read that right!  That's my 'cup o joe!' 
No kidding, it was a research study, totally legit, go here for the article and link.

Now, what this inquiring mind really wants to know is if that also applies to pushing back the progression of type 2 diabetes??  Now we're getting personal.  Because I've got that.  And I still feel a tad betrayed by my body.  But.... you all know I'm all about the coffee.  So, this is a bit of news that makes my day.

And even if they don't specify the benefits of pots of coffee on (already) insulin challenged folks per se.....I'm gonna run with it.  It's only logical, right? 

Anything to further justify and support my caffiene habit connoisseurship, works for me.
Woohoo.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
I'm gonna go pour another cup.

Almost Wordless Wednesday

"House Cakes!" (Marta's name for them)

Aka, gingerbread houses.

 Messy fun, must be Christmas time.

Boulders

Sandro Chia, 1981

So.  Feeling a bit like Sisyphus.  By which I mean, I feel like I'm pushing a big boulder uphill; but without the great physique.  Maybe I've got a teeny bit of the determination.  But, yeah, the boulder....it's big...and sliding.

Had first meeting today.  No door was shut in my face.  Yet.  But it surely wasn't opened either.  Already numerous objections and concerns brought forth, and of the intangible variety.  The problem of other parents and reactions and 'integrity' of school.  The problem of funding resources on an official level.  Bureaucracy.  You all know how much we love that around here.  So, a little down this afternoon....but not out.  Because it's not a 'no' until it's a NO. Until then we will knock on doors and make the calls and examine the angles.

The blues of this though, is that is shouldn't be this way.  If it's a legal thing, maybe. If it's a money thing, maybe.  But if it's a 'we haven't done that' thing, or a "people won't like it" thing....then it makes us/me dig in.  Push.  Slip. Push.  Wait.  Push. 

For today I will wait; I trust that my concerns will be looked into.  But I'm cynical enough to think that it won't be the answer I want.  But for the moment, I will try to wait a few days.  And hold that boulder steady. 

Gearing up

So this week I am gearing up.  No, not for Christmas, don't be ridiculous! I don't go into overdrive on that until four days before the big day.  We've got plenty of time!  Nope, I'm gearing up for a week of meetings with schools.  I've been brainstorming with a few good friends (Nora, you're the best) and consulting with therapists and tutors.  And this week, I've got meetings for both Marta and Sbird regarding school and how to meet their needs.

When you have a kid, or two or three, who don't fit the regulation mold or requirements for regular standard issue schools, you have to plot and plan on how to make things work.  You have to consult brainstorm and pray to figure out solutions that are positive and scenarios that will support your kid's needs and how they can learn where they are at.  ADHD, school delays, language barriers...this is just a few of the hurdles.  And so, as a mom, you "put on your cape," strap on your armor, and you set up meetings.  You go prepared to be charming, persuasive, as well as firm and clear headed.  You brace for battle and hope for miracles.

And so I am.  I will be praying through this week, hoping for great solutions and brave hearts and minds, willing to try something new and different.  If you have a mind to pray, I'd appreciate prayers for this as well (if you remember in the midst of the festive preparations).  And while I hate to beg again for prayers, we have so often, I will.  Because I have some research to sift through, others to present to those in charge.  Because I will go to the mat for my kid(s).  I will beat the bushes for tutors and helpers and beat on principal's doors (nicely but firmly).  I will try to open some eyes to new possibilities, not only for my kids but to open a few doors that have been shut too long.

It would be a miracle but we need some new options after the new year.  And this week, I'm gonna see if we can't make some  headway into making one, or a few, of those become real.  And that would be the best Christmas present of all.

Feast of St. John of the Cross

It's the Feast of St. John of the Cross.

St. John of the Cross is one of the Doctors of the Church, a renowned Mystic, and has some of the deepest thinking and most beautiful writing of the Church.  It is no easy read however and I have only barely dipped into some of  his writings.  His most famous work is, of course, "The Dark Night of the Soul."  I learned about him first through my love of the writings of St. Teresa of Avila, a close friend of St. John.  Together they worked to reform the Carmelite Order which had strayed from it's founding principles of poverty and prayer.  And so they did. 

St. John knows of that tough spot, desolation, difficulty in prayer, and yet, he knows it's bounty as well and the beauty that can be found even in that.  He writes beautifully of the call to die to one's self.  No small feat that, but in that, in bearing life's crosses, we become more truly us and therefore closer to God.  He also wrote that "Silence is God's first language."  See, so much for me to learn! That's one of the reasons I like him. 
Here is another, a quote:

"Where there is no love, put love -- and you will find love." 

Happy Feast day!

 Icon by Lynne Taggart

 

St. John of the Cross, pray for us.

Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe!

It's the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe!
Being from the southwest, growing up in Arizona specifically, I have a special fondness for Our Lady of Guadalupe. And you know, I just like most everything about this feast day and Our Lady of Guadalupe.  I love the Mexican culture, the food to celebrate, the miracles, the roses, the prayers, the colors, the music, the textiles.  What's not to love?

The short version of Our Lady of Guadalupe is, of course, that she appeared to St. Juan Diego on his way to Mass.  She asked for a church to be built on the spot.  She asked him to ask the Bishop.  He agreed, the Bishop didn't want to believe him.  So he kind of griped to Mary, saying that he couldn't get the Bishop to listen and he wanted a sign..  She told Juan to gather flowers from Tepeyac Hill, (ones that weren't indigenous and it was winter) and so he gathered the roses (that had miraculously bloomed in the winter snow) up in his cloak.  When he got to the Bishop, he spilled the roses out in the office and on his tilma (A type of cloak) was the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe!  Full wikipedia version here.

This is one of those times where once again, we see the universality of the Church.  Mary is not only our mother if you are of white european ancestry, but of course, she is mother to us all - the world over.  And in Mexico, today, you can see the festival celebrating her, complete with all the local cultural trimmings.

Coffeedoc and I went to Mexico City on his fortieth birthday, to go see the tilma for ourselves.  And you know, there was a time when part of me just kind of took the 'folklore' appreciation route with Our Lady of Guadalupe.  My folklore background would kick in and I'd get caught up in all the sensual aspects: the colors, textures, foods, fiestas...the layers and layers that are part of any long historical memorial.

 But, going to Mexico City, to the Basilica's - the old and the new - well, it's one of those things.  You go.  You see the pilgrims who have traveled there ON THEIR KNEES.  You see the thousands and thousands of milagros pinned up (Small metal tokens of thanksgiving left behind for answered prayers).  And you see the tilma.  You stand in front of the tilma, and scour it with your own eyes.  You pray. And it's like C.S. Lewis says, to paraphrase: you either believe, or you think they are all lying (Or it's a big scam), or that they are crazy. 

Well, I don't think they are all lying and I don't think that it's a scam.  I think Our Lady of Guadalupe has made a huge difference in so many lives.  And I don't think they are all crazy either.  Especially not after being there.  But I didn't really ever ascribe to that one either.  I believe.  I believe Our Lady of Guadalupe is another manifestation of Our Blessed Mother.  And that like any mom, she will go to where her children are and where they need her.  And so she did. 

"A great sign appeared in the sky, a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet,
and on her head a crown of twelve stars"
Revelation 12:1 (Entrance Antiphon for Our Lady of Guadalupe)

  I recently helped Miss M, my 5th grader, learn this for a Spanish quiz at school, we prayed a spanish rosary.  So, in honor of Our Lady of Guadalupe:

Ave María (Hail Mary)
Dios te salve, María. Llena eres de gracia: El Señor es contigo.
Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres. Y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre: Jesús.
Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores,
ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte. Amén.

Happy Bday BooBoo!

Today is my son's birthday!
My Booboo is 18!
Oh. My. Goodness.

I know, I know...this is when I (and many other moms) will blather on about how fast time flies and how we can't believe it.  But, you know what? Wow, time flies and I can't believe it!!!

My little goofy boy with the solemn face and big brown eyes is officially all grown up.  I could get all misty just typing this.  And yet...and yet....I so very much like the young man he has grown into.  Even without the motherly bias...he is a great young man.  I totally enjoy his company and he is good.  He is kind.  He has a good heart to go with his big brain and big sense of adventure and  humor.  He has very big adventure's ahead, I know it.

My Booboo, you are heading off to many adventures: college, jobs, traveling the world, falling in love.
But you are and will always be, to me, first, my boy.
The one with the big brown eyes.
And duckling hair that wouldn't stay down.
And solemn face, hiding the big grin and twinkling eyes.
You are funny, witty and clever and can make me laugh so hard that I cry.
You can also make me fume and have steam coming out of my ears.
And while you currently 'know everything,' that is all too soon to change.
I will miss that, a little bit.

Your quirks make me smile; you are an old soul.
You were an 'old man' the day  you were born.
You love cardigans, 'old man'.
You love a hot tea and soft slippers, old man.
You love a long nap on the sofa, old man.
You carry problems,  yours and others, heavily, 'old man."
 You have helped to carry mine.
And you are one of my heroes.

Your world view is bigger than most.
Your judgement is usually good (except the occasional right hand turn, ahem) and your integrity is impeccable.
You even managed to find your girlfriend in one of your best friends, and are handling the relationship with respect and trust.
And even with this, you show us your sound judgement and good taste, both, as she is both beautiful and kind.

You are also still full of small boy mischief and crave adventure.
You want to jump out of airplane and dive into the sea.
You want to start record companies and jam late into the night.
You want to polar bear dive into the cold winter waters.
And snowboard down the fastest slopes.
{And live with the injuries that those sports and adventures bring.}

You love magic and practical jokes,
You love to laugh and make others laugh.
And you're good at it.
You're cool enough to happily be silly.

You love a bargain and are my frugal child, and yet still the mogul in the family.
You love babies, but not so much children.
You love music and are getting to be so talented.
I love your acoustic guitar playing, but not so much the loud techno.
You love turtles.
Maybe because you hide your big soft heart behind a turtle shell of stoic and tough.
But I know better.

Because Booboo, you are my boy, now a  young man.
And we have always been so close.
And I hope, we always will be.

We are so proud of you, every day.

We love you so much.

Happy Happy Birthday Booboo!

Almost Wordless Wednesday

Baby, it's cold outside!

Feast of the Immaculate Conception.

Saint Anne conceiving the Virgin Mary
Douai, Musée de la Chartreuse

Oh, it's a big feast today!  It's one of those feasts: an uber Catholic one.
It's the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, a holy day of obligation.

One of the big Marian feasts, and one that often gives many folks some consternation (from a scratch on the head to fits).  For a good explanation of it all, go here (and scroll down for all those, "What's up with that" "How can that be?" kind of responses).  I can't give you a great theological treatise on it.  It took brilliant theologians from the east and west to determine this one over the centuries, but they did because we are human. And our inquiring minds want to know, and puzzle and ponder.  So those who have gone before us prayed and debated and concluded.  I can say that it only makes sense to my puny brain.

For a long time, I thought that the "immaculate conception" referred to Mary's conception of Jesus, you know, with the descent of the Holy Spirit and Gabriel and all...clean, tidy, right?  But no, it's actually about Mary and her being preserved from the stain of original sin.  Confusing, a little, huh?  Well, this is how it parses out in my old mom brain: God himself is all love and of course, without sin.  God came to us in his son, Christ, who was also without sin (being God and all).  Since all purity and all love cannot coexist with the stain of sin, how could Christ come to us as a man, without first having a pure 'vessel', if you will?  Well, he couldn't, that would not correspond with the natural/divine order.  Growing in utero is, utterly, coexisting.  So, if God cannot coexist with sin, then a human mom to be would have to be found, sinless.  And thus, since God is beyond time, he prepared Mary, {from her conception of course}, to be without sin.  Because God knew, outside of time, that Mary would be the perfect (literally and figuratively) mom for Jesus.

Now, I think that's cool!  It makes perfect sense to me and really is one of those 'clap your hands, I get it" kind of moments.  Yeah, it's uber Catholic.  But hey, I love being Catholic because (well, so many reasons) its cool and rich and takes my breath away.  And of course,  I love feasts....so it's a good day!

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us!

Feast of St. Ambrose

It's the Feast of St. Ambrose!

And not only does he have a fun cool name, he was an outstanding teacher and Bishop of the Church in the early years; elected Bishop of Milan in 340.  A wealthy politician, he ended up giving away all his material goods to the poor. 

I like him because though many thought he'd be "a player," politically speaking, as a Bishop, he wasn't.  At least not in the sense that was perhaps hoped for by the players of the time.  He perhaps used his political savvy, but for good.  And that is just the sort of saint we need in this duplicitous day and age of politics and media..... 

So, happy feast day, and St. Ambrose, pray for us!

Make way for ducklings: Reality Check

I might have mentioned once or twice that I have a large family -  a fair number of kidletts.  People will ask me, "How do you do it all?"  They see my brood and the hustle and bustle and are often incredulous, and maybe a little freaked out (And probably thinking, "Whew, not me!).  Sometimes I smile and say, "The big kids help, it's not so much."  And that's true.  More often I might say, "I don't! I have help. It's one of the secrets to a big family: built in helpers."  Even more often, I say, "Well, I fail.  Every day."  And that's probably the most accurate of all.

Reality Check:  Sometimes, you have tough weeks.  Not even extra-ordinary weeks with some disaster that defines the days.  But rather, you have ordinary days, a week filled with laundry and school and  homework and juggling schedules.  But for some reason, that week is tough.  Sometimes, thankfully not so often, but sometimes....despite the standard mundane moments, it seems like every single person needs just a bit, or quite a lot, MORE, somehow.

On those days, that usual sense of paddling as fast as you can, maybe dropping a few balls here and there....kind of shifts.  
And then, you realize that you feel, for the moment, (to borrow an old phrase) like you are being pecked to death by baby ducks.

So, for those of you who wonder how any of us "do it all,"  I'd like to honestly say that some days you (ok, me)  just feel a little overrun, and maybe you (ok, me) fantasize for a moment or two about flights to faraway tropical islands - one way. So, that's part of the package.  Not all that rare I suspect.  But yeah, it's been one of those weeks.

Break Out

I've been stewing about some things lately. You know what that means: a jumbly rambling possibly ranting post. Fair warning.

It's just that I'm getting tired. Not physically tired, psychically tired.  Emotionally and intellectually tired.   I'm just dipping my toes into a new pool of sorts. And while we've lived with some of this for, oh, seven years or so....the more formal social and educational aspect of this is hitting closer to home now.

Now that I've thoroughly confused you, I want to say it out loud. But this term, this subject, is loaded. It is rife with taboos and thorns and unwritten rules, as well as rules written at length and all but incomprehensible. And even more, all too often, with ignorance from folks on the outside looking in (And hey, I'll admit, that used to be me).  Yes, I'm talking about "special needs."

Special Needs.

Yeah, such a simple little set of words.
But OH MY GOODNESS, so very loaded.
Now, I could do a post and be like the "Church Lady" and point out what we all already know:

Dana Carvey, the Church Lady

Each and every one of us is "special needs" in the sense that we are all SPECIAL, and have our own quirks and strengths and so on.
And I do believe that.

But this post is about another aspect of "special needs."
And it's that I am tired of the taboos.
I am tired of not being able to say things out loud, for fear of stigma.
I am tired of when I do say it, somehow voices drop to a whisper, or I get an "Oh....ahh" and a quick look away kind of response.
Or worse, a well meaning defense of my kid saying "No way, that can't be right."

This is all making me want to strap on my mom armor and go to battle.
I have two, possibly three, kids who have special needs. Yeah, I could say, "different needs" or something like that. But I am tired and too old to be tiptoeing through the ever shifting sands of pc (or, more accurately: 'sc', socially correct) verbage.  I mean they have needs that are, big or small, outside the standard box.

Disclaimer ahead: So, to be clear, in this post, I am talking about kids who don't fit the mold of standard track education or behaviors or medical issues. Special needs comes in all different forms and levels and severity, so I cannot speak to those needs that are not ours and would not try to. I can speak to what we are working with, in our home, with my kids. Disclaimer over.

What I want to throw out there (And maybe it's naive, and I hope the special ed/needs community doesn't flame me): Why the taboo?
Why do we have to whisper about this stuff?
Why is there such stigma?
Why does it have to be?
Why do well meaning folks instantly say, "No, that can't be right?" as if, if it IS accurate, then somehow that child is less than they were perceived prior to the new knowledge?
Nothing changes with this knowledge.
The child, my child, is not a different person if we know more about them and how their mind works.


Their "worth" is in no way based on how they learn or if they have glitches or if they cannot.

It's fine tuning.

Special needs information is not an appraisal of value or rank, it's information gathering; it is problem solving. It's fine tuning; academic approaches, behavioral needs, medical stuff....it's figuring out what works best for them and why.  Period.

And I want to start talking out loud about some of the issues we are working through.
And I fear I cannot online due to the possibility of hurting my child somehow, somewhere, someday.
I want to try to open up to other families who might be dealing with some of these issues to share tips and ideas.
Even here, even now, I have to hedge a bit, worry about protecting them.
But the beauty of this blog world is the connection. I have been repeatedly amazed and grateful for the prayers and the help and the advice and the simple feeling of not being alone...due to this blog community. And I suspect there might be other families that have children who have medical, educational, behavior issues that are out there.

Heck there is an alphabet jungle out there of issues, we have a small forest of them in my house. Is it wrong to want to use resources, to connect to help my kids? To help me? I don't think so.

I hope that maybe other moms might be tired of not being able to talk about this part of their family life. I hope that other moms might be tired of their kids being slotted into a stereotype due to a possible "label" or some small bit of information. That small bit of information, that acronym, or term, is a tiny (or, sometimes, large) facet of who they really are - the wholeness of their person.

Are there any moms out there who are tired of pushing against the tide of perception?
I am.

I want to break out.
I want to talk about my kids.
I want to talk about all my kids.
I want to have conversations about special needs - without the stigma.
I want to shout: having a different approach or way of learning or brain wiring doesn't make you less.
It's different. Less common maybe.
It takes some brainstorming, a lot sometimes.
Don't slot my kid, don't presume.
They may really have that issue, and it's a little scary.
They may not, but then they probably have another one to work on.
But that very thing (the one that's not 'pc' to talk about outright), might just be one of their strengths as well, depending on how you look at it.

But, let's break the taboo.
Let's start saying these things out loud.

If you can't speak of it, name it, it has so much more power, but the wrong kind.
And that breaks my heart.
But it also makes me angry because it's wrong.
We have to advocate and be strong for these kids especially.
So I guess I'm talking. Armor on.
Because they deserve it.
Because they are beautiful.
And I'm their mom.

The waiting begins. Advent.

Waiting.
This blog is about nothing if not waiting.
Waiting is one of the very worst skills of mine; by which I mean, I stink at waiting.
I am wretched at waiting because I have no patience.
So, of course I have had to wait many times, and surely will continue to.
And it is surely the reason I have eight children.
I have waited for many things and people over the years.
Sometimes I fall into the huge trap of "wishing away my life" (as they say here in the south) by the way I wait.
It's true.
I have done that far too much, far too often.
I suspect I've lost years.

I have waited impatiently, filled with busyness, to finish college.
To get into grad school and out again.
Waited for Coffeedoc to finish med school. Then internship. Then residency.
Waited to stop being broke.
Waited to get married (seven years dating, so, I'm not kidding).
Waited to get pregnant (but only the third time...and that wait was particularly long and particularly difficult on all levels).
Waited to adopt. To be selected by a birthmom. To hold that baby.
Waited to adopt from Ethiopia. To jump through the paperwork hoops. To be matched with a referral. To pass court. To travel.
Waited for the CDC to clear my daughter to come home. To be allowed to travel.

Heck, I can turn waiting for Coffeedoc to get home for dinner into a sporting event.
So, yeah, I wait...all too often. And I do it all wrong.
Patience is NOT one of my virtues. Thus, I suffer a bit, or a lot, waiting.

The reason to drone on about all this waiting is that today is a special day.
Today is the day to try, once again, to approach waiting in the right spirit.
Today is the day to reframe the waiting into a better approach: preparation.
Today is the day to recognize the beauty of the wait: the anticipation, the slow glow of expectation.
Today is the first Sunday of Advent.

I love Advent.

When done right Advent is a season (four Sundays) of rich tradition, prayerful contemplative expectation, a settling into the deep; it is combined with an overlaid gauze of building excitement.
It is a preparation -not for a Christmas morning frenzy of torn wrapping paper and too many gifts.
But rather, a mindful preparation for the advent, literally the 'coming,' of the most important gift of all.

I almost always fail Advent.
I stay mired in the cycling hubub of my house, the must do's, the should's, the pressures and strains. I get lost in the jumble of calendar commitments and then resent the time they snatch away.
It's the curse of the goal oriented...this sense of 'eye on the prize.' Get to Christmas, make it happen.
But the trap is that then you miss the process, the very beauty of the anticipation.
You miss one of the most beautiful seasons of the year.
I wish away this gorgeous season.

This year, once again, I hope to be more mindful.
To prepare the gifts early enough to stop the last minute frantic fretting and gathering.
To dig in and slow way down.
I hope and pray to see and stop and savor the small moments - the ones I might miss as I move so fast through the days.

This is Advent. It's a beautiful time of preparation, inside and out.
It's almost Christmas! He is coming.
The waiting begins again.

"Know that the Lord is coming and with him all his saints;
that day will dawn with a wonderful light, alleluia."

From the Divine Office: First Sunday of Advent.

Ah, Thanksgiving

I could go on for days, and should go on for my lifetime, listing the things I am thankful for. So many, too many to list or count, more than I deserve. So, for today, I will say that I am unspeakably grateful for my friends (blog and in person), family, and abundant life, for the gift of faith and the Catholic church, for the guests and the jokes, the turmoil and the fears and the cheers. All of it. For my crazy loud hectic chaotic wonderful life. Every blessed moment.

And with that, this is the best way for me to show what I'm thankful for, the most important parts:

I am so very deeply thankful.
For all of it.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Ah, shucks

So. Laura and Christine have "awarded" me this tag....and while I usually ignore all these, I feel a bit scroogelike and ungrateful to not acknowledge them being so nice to link to me and my goofy blog. Actually, I feel a tad like Sally Field being glad someone likes her. Both of these gals have lovely blogs and the ones they tagged are all worth a closer look as well! The best reason for me to put this up is that I now get to list/link to seven blogs that I like very much. Ooohhhh, the choices......like a kid in a candy shop....

Anyhow, first, officially, I get to post the blog award "rules."
1. Thank the person who awarded me the award, and link that person's blog on my blog.
2. Identify seven things about myself.
3. Award seven bloggers with the "Kreativ Blogger Award," post links to their blogs, and leave a comment on each of their blogs, to let them know of the honor. I don't really know what a "Kreativ blogger" is, so you can just give it to whoever you like!

So without further ado, seven things about myself (Again? in my aging brain fog...I fear I might be being redundant...):
1. I grew up riding horses in the desert of Arizona. I still miss the desert and those long views and that particular beauty.
2. I misplace my glasses ALL the time. I am mercilessly reminded by my children that I have misplaced my sunglasses in the fridge.
3. I thought I'd grow up to be just like Mary Tyler Moore....throwing my beret up in glee in the big city, a cool working gal.
4. I've always been easy to tease; it made me suffer somewhat as a child in a big family. Now it makes me laugh.
5. My Grandpa, the only one I ever knew, used to call me "Movie Star." And it totally embarrassed me but I also kind of loved it.
6. Yes, I have always been rather dull, WAKE UP...the GOOD blog links are coming right up.
7. I never dreamed I'd have eight kids, or live the life I do - much less be happy with it. And that's the most wonderful hysterical surprise treasure of all.
DONE

Ok, and now, in no particular order (Hey, I've learned a thing or two over the years....), are seven blog links to blogs that I always check in on....because they make me think, smile, ponder....at any rate, they are worth a click. Check 'em out.

1. Jen at Conversion Diary: Yeah, its a Catholic blog, but its also a mom blog and she is a deep thinker but also blunt and honest and real. I love reading her blog and also with this one you get a two for one deal: she has another blog that is just perfect for those bored procrastinating moments (admit it, we all do it), called appropriately enough: Jennifer's Favorite Links.

2. Becca, at Albertson Debrief. I love her because she wears her heart on her sleeve and loves fiercely, no matter what. She stands up for what she believes whether or not its considered "pc" and for that, she inspires me.

3. Courtney Rose, at Dandies in the Sunshine. She is another thinker and a feeler and I love to read her writing and her blog, because again it's real and funny and honest. She's full of passion and it comes right through the screen.

4. Lori, at The Road to Our Own, because, well, her family is beautiful, their hearts are beautiful. They live this bountiful life and actually seem to be aware of it along the way. That's rare air. Plus Abe is adorable and she is a special gal.

5. Jen, at Leap of Faith, because she has an awesome family, is very sharp and has a heart that runs deep. She is also witty and savvy; her blog follows the addition of their beautiful Bella (yeah, I know, but that is the good kind of redundant) and just following a functional happy family gives hope in this darkish world.

6. Thankful Mom at A Bushel and A Peck, this blog is one that I track closely because she 'gets it.' She has an ongoing series called "My learning curve" that always has great tips and thoughts that are applied to kids who are working through some issues perhaps: attachment and such. But the secret is that these tips and ideas can be applied to any and all kids, each family. I always come away with more to think about or an "aha" moment from her.

7. Zoe, at Chasing Saints. I like to visit Zoe's blog because, first off, she has the coolest banner going. Go. See. But secondly, she is a mere youngster (ok, to me) but she 'gets it." She's very sharp, she's on the adoption journey, and she's a thought-full Catholic who knows her stuff.

Anyhow. I'm honored. I feel a little doofy, but it's worth it if you go read those blogs. They are worth your time! Happy Thanksgiving!

Warp speed, Scotty!

And so it begins...the Thanksgiving rush.
Today and tomorrow, especially, this is where I am:

"Mr. Scott! I need warp speed, now!"

(And yes I realize I have, once again, revealed my age by the reference....but there you have it, this was my era).
I love love love this holiday, but it's a major undertaking too. Much yummy cooking and much hostessing of far flung family (and I'm not the natural that Lori is, ahem). It all usually comes together, somehow, but it's something of a race. Thus, blogging may be light.

Now if I just had a transporter....I'd be good to go! See you on the far side....

Turn-keys: touch

I've written a bit about what I have found, for us at least, to be "turn-keys" in the process of adoption and adjustment. Lately, I've been thinking a lot about another key (again, disclaimer: These are just my humble bossy opinions, not any expert or professional claim to knowledge). This key is one of the oldest and most important, for all parenting, but ever more so - if possible - for the process of adjustment in adoption. Yup, it's "touch."

I know, doh.
Touch.
A no-brainer, right?

Well, maybe not so much. Maybe it's a no brainer if you are a naturally 'touchy-feely' person (And really, I think most would say I am, but still...). Maybe its a no-brainer if you are talking about giving birth to a child, or even adopting a tiny infant. With babies, bio or otherwise, our species is biologically programmed to respond to the cries of an infant, to hold to soothe to touch it to comfort. It's a natural, right?

But with any child, and I mean ANY child, regardless of their mode of arrival into your family.....there are times when, you know, you just don't really feel like touching them so much.

Shocked, are you?
Have I revealed too much of my cold stony selfish heart?
Hmmm, c'mon, admit it, who hasn't been grossed out by the quantity and quality of projectile vomit that a smallish baby or child can, um, expel?
Who hasn't been gagging when their baby smears the contents of their diaper all around the crib? (Hey, 8 kids, yes, they've done that. Don't judge me.)
Call me crazy, but I'm not so into the cuddly canoodling at those times. I am more than happy for a little personal space....
And really, who hasn't thought "Fine then" when the attitude riven teen throws a snit and stomps out of the room? Who hasn't been grateful, even ONCE, to have them sleep in, just a little while for that peaceful solo quiet time in the morning?
Not you? Well, then, stop reading, this post is not for you.

But for the rest of us, for ME, this is a huge deal.
Touch.
For your standard issue kid, its a huge deal when they are tots and need all that imprinting bonding caring loving. It's at least as big or a bigger deal as they move through their stages of wild little kid, to the scary times as the world opens up to them in school and beyond, to the awkward times of preteen and the touchy times of full blown "I know everything" teenagerhood. This is when you have to remember: touch them.
Hug them, they need it so much.
They might only lean against you as a hug back. They might not even seem to register that pat on the arm, but it makes a difference. A huge huge difference. Prickly or not, possibly even more then, those little touches during a day can bridge a lot of troubled water.

This brings me to the turn-key. If touch can make such a huge, ongoing, difference in the relationship and life of a child in your home from infancy, imagine the importance of touch with a child who is new to your home. And if you are talking about an older child (And, of course, I am now), and if that child is a hurt child (Which most older children who are adopted are, of course), and if that child doesn't have your language....well, this turn-key is made of gold.

So it seems, again, simple, a no brainer, right?
Touch the kid.
Let them touch you.
Hug them.
And yet, it's not nearly so simple after all. Because what you don't read so much in all those stacks of adoption books is that it can be hard, touch-wise, with an older child. Cuddling a baby or toddler is automatic, almost, we are primed and programmed and enchanted to do it. An older child is, forgive me as this is not so "politically correct," not necessarily always so enchanting and we are not primed and programmed to touch them. We are strangers. We have not crossed those boundaries yet. Formally, on paper, yes. But in actual practice, no.

The initial meet and hugs and kisses are kind of driven along by adrenaline on both sides. But then comes the moment when you all kind of look at each other and wonder. It's much like an arranged marriage, without the extended courtship and chaperones.

Many older adopted children are also simply starved for physical affection. Starved. Hungry. Hungry to touch and be touched. And so you do, they do, you must. They are starved for safe comforting embracing touch - touch that doesn't hurt in any way. So, we had, and so many have, an intense instant need on Marta's part for touch, kiss, hugs, holds, just skin on skin. And it's weird. In a way, it's strange to immediately jump boundaries that our modern American ways have fixed into place over decades.

But this is a key, one of THE keys. You touch.
You do it.
And its by the doing, the touching that you start to step over those walls, you stop being strangers, you start being family. The more I touch her, in the caring mode of mom, the closer I get - literally and figuratively. The more I sit nestled next to her, with her feet draped over my shins, the more time our skin is next to skin, the more we blend together.

It sounds so simple, but in practice, it can be an act of will. Wash her back, paint her nails, do her hair, put lotion on face, hold her when she's sobbing, hold her when she's sick.

And oddly enough this touching is a sort of claiming.
At first it's a formal dance of sorts, an acting out of the proper roles.
Eventually, it starts to become real. It's an intimacy of family. Only family brings the sick kid into mom and dad's bed, clammy, with her holding your hand to her sore throat, not letting go.
Babies claim you as they sleep snuggle and cling to you for their every need.
Toddlers and little kids claim you in passing fierce hugs and climbing on you when needy.
Older kids, they claim you by leaning on you, by sitting next to you or draped across you, asking you to do their hair, fix their clothes, feel their forehead.
I know, this is all obvious.
But the part of the key that is important, for me, is the part that "fits in my hand". See the keys up top? See the scrolled beautiful head of the key? This is the part I, or you, hold. And this is MY part. Because now I see that by touching this child, caring for her, letting her claim me by touch and touching her back as mine, giving her a sponge bath for a fever, checking her eyes for stray lashes, her braces for sprung wire...I claim her too. And I think, or am learning, that if I hold back from those touches, no matter how strange at first, then I lose.

It's the touch itself that seals the claim, builds it, and turns it into family.

For Buddybug and Vampires

This tidbit is just too fun to resist, so I'm copying most of it here. It made me smile on a rocky day. (h/t to Anchoress)

Pier Giorgio Frassati; Vampire Slayer?

In pop culture, Vampires are currently (again) all the rage, and Fr. Z makes the amusing and not so off-base observation that this icon of our dear friend, Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati, looks a bit like a vampire slayer.

The Dominican Tertiary from Italy is actually shown holding his rosary and his beloved skis, but I thought it was amusing, just the same. And since we know (in fact we have the pictures to prove it) that Pier Giorgio had a wonderful sense of humor, I bet he’d find it amusing, as well.

“The end for which we are created invites us to walk a road that is surely sown with a lot of thorns, but it is not sad; through even the sorrow, it is illuminated by joy.”
— Pier Giorgio Frassati

It has been shamelessly lifted from both the Anchoress, and from Father Z, but I hope they won't mind....I'm a tiny fish in the humongous 'net pond,' and they are big time. But with the frenzy over THE premiere of that vampire series (you know the one I"m talking about, unless you live in a cave in the desert and have no access to teen girls or tabloids in the supermarket), and the current vogue over all things vampire...this made me smile, and think of my boy. All good.

Buddybug has a great devotion and affection for Blessed Pier Giorgio. And really, what's not to like? He was fun, kind, devout, athletic, outgoing, handsome, charming young guy...plus he was Italian! All good, and his pure heart and soul made him shine - and does still, even now.

Almost Wordless Wednesday

And somehow, the cat only lets Gabey pick her up.

Go figure.

Feast Day of St. Elizabeth of Hungary

Its the feast of St. Elizabeth of Hungary.

She is a special saint and an amazing woman. There are "Mother Teresa's" in every generation -- usually many at any given time. St. Elizabeth was one of those in her time (1207 - 1231). We've given our daughter SBird, St. Elizabeth as a patron and pray for her prayers and intercession for her. Today we celebrate her feast and the best way I know how is to lift from the readings of the day from the Liturgy of the Hours (with a h/t to Coffeedoc for this).

She was a daughter of the King of Hungary. She was given in marriage to Ludwig, the Landgrave of Thuringia, by whom she had three children. She frequently meditated on heavenly things and when her husband died she embraced poverty and built a hospice in which she cared for the sick herself.

Oil painting on copper by Adam Elsheimer (1578-1610)

From a letter of Conrad of Marburg, Saint Elizabeth's spiritual director
"
Elizabeth recognised and loved Christ in the poor

From this time onward Elizabeth’s goodness greatly increased. She was a lifelong friend of the poor and gave herself entirely to relieving the hungry. She ordered that one of her castles should be converted into a hospital in which she gathered many of the weak and feeble. She generously gave alms to all who were in need, not only in that place but in all the territories of her husband’s empire. She spent all her own revenue from her husband’s four principalities, and finally she sold her luxurious’ possessions and rich clothes for the sake of the poor.
Twice a day, in the morning and in the evening, Elizabeth went to visit the sick. She personally cared for those who were particularly repulsive; to some she gave food, to others clothing; some she carried on her own shoulders, and performed many other kindly services. Her husband, of happy memory, gladly approved of these charitable works. Finally, when her husband died, she sought the highest perfection; filled with tears, she implored me to let her beg for alms from door to door.
On Good Friday of that year, when the altars had been stripped, she laid her hands on the altar in a chapel in her own town, where she had established the Friars Minor, and before witnesses she voluntarily renounced all worldly display and everything that our Saviour in the gospel advises us to abandon. Even then she saw that she could still be distracted by the cares and worldly glory which had surrounded her while her husband was alive. Against my will she followed me to Marburg. Here in the town she built a hospice where she gathered together the weak and the feeble. There she attended the most wretched and contemptible at her own table.
Apart from those active good works, I declare before God that I have seldom seen a more contemplative woman. When she was coming from private prayer, some religious men and women often saw her face shining marvellously and light coming from her eyes like the rays of the sun.
Before her death I heard her confession. When I asked what should be done about her goods and possessions, she replied that anything which seemed to be hers belonged to the poor. She asked me to distribute everything except one worn out dress in which she wished to be buried. When all this had been decided, she received the body of our Lord. Afterward, until vespers, she spoke often of the holiest things she had heard in sermons. Then, she devoutly commended to God all who were sitting near her, and as if falling into a gentle sleep, she died."

Happy feast day, Sbird!

St. Elizabeth of Hungary, pray for us!

Big Brother is watching you....

And so he will video you rather than put you to nap.
Those are my boys!

Patron of immigrants: Feast of St. Francis Xavier Cabrini

Today is the feast of St. Francis Xavier Cabrini.
She is also known as Mother Cabrini; and a saint that is known as "Mother" is usually a very special saint indeed. Its the mom factor, they don't throw that word around lightly, you know? Nor should they! Anyhow, Mother Cabrini is a special saint, though not as well known as many.

She is known for starting hospitals, schools and orphanages in her native Italy and then right here in America. She was sent to America by Pope Leo the 13th. And as she was born in Italy but came to live out her days in American, she is also, importantly, an immigrant. She is the first American citizen, and an immigrant to boot, to be canonized.
So, lets make a list: uber organized, holy, immigrant, strong woman in a man's world, courageous, started orphanages, hospitals, and schools. And, last but not least, she came from a large family too. Bigger than ours even! So, how many links does that give us (by which I mean, me and my family)? I'm losing count. So, I figure she's a sort of patron of our family and the causes that pull at our hearts....the same ones that pull at many of yours. And if that is the case for you, then have a chat with Mother Cabrini, ask her for prayers. Surely, I know, she will pray faithfully for your intentions and concerns....because she has a mom's heart.

St. Francis Xavier Cabrini, pray for us!
Happy feast day.

Post Bday Post

Yeah, it's the post birthday picture report.
Because this birthday yesterday was kind of extra special...I'm can't help it. I gotta post some pics. You know I have to! If only for the far flung family types......

And I have to say that this day was kind of loaded, on different levels. We weren't sure if it was going to be a boffo day or a bust. And so we made sure to have it follow, as precisely as possible, the standard traditions of our family bdays. Marta has seen several now and so it was important to have it play out the same way, but with it being her turn. And so it did.

There was a lot of "Oh my goodness!" and many bounces up from the chair to hug and kiss, or a "come here" demand for a hug and kiss. Every single card and present got oohed and aahed over. Every card needed a kiss/hug. We had to say "Open it!" because Marta would just stare at the shiny wrapping with a grin...relishing even that. Every gift had a minimum of three springs out of her chair to hug/kiss.

There was much giggling, the usual small boy grabbing and tugging, the usual chaos and noise and mess. There was her favorite penne with a simple but super tomato/pancetta sauce, salad and strawberry pink ice cream cake, candles, singing and clapping.

A big, very good, momentarily overwhelming here and there, terrific sparkly day. And I'm just so glad.

Even the big kids were grinning real grins, it was just a happy thing to see.

And that makes me ridiculously happy, for her, for us, for the family.
A little tired maybe, but very happy.
And she is still floating and giggling.
And listening to Michael Jackson cd's.
A first and thirteenth birthday can be a very good thing indeed.

Happy Birthday Marta!

Today is our Marta's birthday!!!
She is thirteen today!

This is, in a way, her first birthday as well. Let me explain: As many of you know, they do not track or record birth days in Ethiopia. Meaning, a specific day or date of birth is typically an educated guess, at best. As a child gets older, and if that child has lost their parents and known relatives, this day fades - if it was ever marked at all. This sounds sad, but over there it is not. Its not a part of their culture, this tradition. But as we all know, its a very big part of ours.

And so, after much speculation, discussion, a little investigation, a bunch of translation....we have come to a day, agreed upon by all: Marta's birthday. Today. November 11. She is 13 today.

This is a big day for all of us. Our girl's first birthday. And yes, there will be streamers and candles and songs and cake and ice cream (Ok, ice cream cake). There will be her favorite foods: pasta and salad...and ice cream. There will be great swaths of pink, on the table, the cake, the streamers, the wrapping.....as many surfaces and items we can find, we will all don pink hats and shirts, even the dog....ok, maybe not. But you get the idea. It will be festive.

We will sing and we will take pictures. And give many many birthday hugs. But we will also keep it low key in a way too. Because just like a literal first year birthday, sometimes it can be overwhelming. So we will sit at the table for dinner in our usual spots. Eat her favorite meal, made the same way by mom. And we will still have ESL tutoring and get the laundry done. Because even though the mundane bits of life go on, that underlying crackle of pink specialness can still glow through the day. Because that is the beauty of a birthday....that quiet special sense that you are special and you have those who think so too. It is a day to mark with that sure knowledge. And so we will try.

Our Marta Therese on her first and thirteenth birthday:

You are a joyful spirit.
A simple happy complicated girl.
You love to sing and laugh at mom sing.
You love to laugh at everyone else dancing.
One day we will get you to dance too.
You are a beauty.
Someday you too will know you are a beauty too.
A good chunk of your beauty shines from inside.
This is the truest kind of beauty.
You truly deeply love the your faith, God, and the Mass.
And that inspires.
You love to laugh.
You love to play.
You can be silly as a small child.
You can be as demanding as a small child.
And as moody as any teen, ever.
You are impatient and stubborn.
You are helpful and compassionate.
You hate math.
You love pink.
You are working so hard on learning english.
But you really hate math.
Almost as much as you hate learning to tell American time.
You love to write cards to your Grandma.
And to sew quilts of your own design.
And you do not want any help, unless the machine busts.
You love pink, in anything and everything.
You love pink ice cream, yogurt, pjs, sweaters, socks, pens.
Pink.
And a dash of cheetah print might be nice too.
You love football.
It could only be better if they players wore pink, maybe.
You are my only kid who is excited for braces.
And yes, they are pink!

You have been home almost four months.
It feels like you just got here.
It feels like so much longer.
We are all slowly growing toward and in each other.
It's a long process.
But it can't be rushed.
It's kind of like this birthday:
It's marked by a 13, but its new and old at the same time.
Everything about us, each other, is new to each other.
But so many things too, are old in their way.
Mom dad daughter sister family.
It's age old.
And brand new.
Just like a birthday really should be.

Happy Happy Birthday Marta.
We love you and are so proud of you.
We hope all your wishes come true!

Adjustment: Marking the good. redux

I don't have a picture. Not the right picture anyhow. I have this picture, far below, which will have to suffice.

I had a "mark the good" moment today. And because I have written before about how I think its important to MARK the good when you recognize it, I want to write this down...for the record, and so it doesn't slip away from my foggy mind. In older child adoption, there is so much that is strange and awkward, especially at first. And only time can help ease into some things. One of those is worth a whole 'nother post (Fair warning...). But it is this very thing that had one of those moments today, the kind that stills and shimmers for a minute, you realize you kind of are holding your breath so you don't blink and lose it. Then you do blink because you have to, suddenly, there is a pending spill. And if you're lucky you recognize, that this is one to mark. A step forward. A settling in. A deeper twinge resonating.

Ack. Let me explain. Tomorrow is Marti's birthday. She is a bit giddy in anticipation. Just a little shivery giddy. But I didn't really see it until Mass.

Every day we go to Mass after we drop off the school kids (parochial school, one of the perks). Every day we sit in our pew, third from the back, left. Some mornings Coffeedoc gets to join us before clinic. Today was one of those.

Marta was in between us, she kept pulling Coffeedoc closer in, and squooshing closer to me. We were all mooshed up together in that pew, tho the pew was empty otherwise. If you didn't know it, it looked like it was below freezing and we were huddling for warmth. Then, in one of the quiet moments of the Mass, we sat again, taking our huddle. She grinned and she pulled him closer in, put his hand on her lap and grabbed mine, pulling it to his, placing our two old hands together. We smiled a small laugh at each other. Then she grinned wider.

She wrapped her little arms around our big ones on either side, grabbed hands in the middle and squeezed. "My dad. My mom," she whispered to us with a huge smile.

It was very much like a small small child, claiming again, for the hundredth time, their parents. But this was our teen. Not a toddler. But the declaration was the same. And we looked across her head and smiled that deep smile. And then, surprising myself...I blinked.

I don't have a picture to show you. I wish I did. But I have stored this one away safely anyhow, marking it for good.

The Deep

Sometimes you forget. Sometimes you forget the depth of what this is. This adoption stuff.

I guess you have to, because if you set it always in the forefront of your mind you will be frozen. It's so big. It's so much. Just what these kids have done, come from their first family to be woven into yours...it's so much. And so, when they have carved out that spot in your heart of hearts, that fierce love for them has gripped you...you forget. You forget sometimes, what they call that "primal wound." They might forget, for a while, too. Or not really realize or understand it if they are so young. Not yet. But its there.

The other night, Gabey had crawled into my bed. We all were sleeping but he started fussing in a dream. He whimpered. Turned over. Then, sleep-shouted clearly and loudly, "Don't leave me!"

Oh!
Instantly wide awake, my breath taken.

He has never, ever, said that. Not awake, not asleep. He does say "I want to go with you!" And with ferocious toddler power, "That's MY mommy!" But he has not said this. And he has not said this with that angry hurt sad deep cry.

And I wondered, was he just dreaming of the comings and goings in our busy house? I don't think so. This had a different quality. Not only because it was 2 a.m. But it was more.
I know it, I heard it, I felt it.
This was his hurt.
My boy's hurt.
His mom died. He was taken to the orphanage at eleven months. He was left.
It is primal.

And so I snuggled in close to him. I whispered, "I'm here." And then, "I'll never leave you." He relaxed back into sleep. And I lay awake, picking up the shattered bits of my heart.

Real kids. On their own.

Teenagers.

What happens to them?
I mean, what happens to them if they don't have a family?
If they don't have a home?
A bedroom?
A safe place to be?
Enough food, enough care?
Someone to watch over them, to give them grief, to tell them "good job", or "nice try", or "hey, no attitude!"?
What if no one is there to say "It's gonna be ok", and really mean it.
What if they are cold or hungry or sick or scared.
What if they are alone?
Alone.

Grim huh?
Well, its real.
Its real here in the states.
Its even more real, to an unfathomable level, around the world.
Real kids.
The "lucky" ones are in an orphanage or foster care.
But they are not really lucky at all.
Because they don't have a family, or a home, or anyone who really cares about them, every day.
And that temporary haven, of sorts, that orphanage or foster home, it's gonna end.
The time there is limited.
And then these kids, and even as older teens, they are still kids, with the same needs and wants of any teen kids....they are sent out.
They are sent out.
To a bleak future.
Tough to get a job when jobs aren't available, you have no connections, no transportation, no proper clothes, not enough food, and not enough or any school.
Tough to find a place to stay when you have a tiny pocket of money to "get you started."
That money can't even rent a place to stay for a few months, if you could find one.
That money can't get you in school, or help you find a job.
That money runs out.
Then the future becomes Grim.
It is all too easy to have that future include drugs, assault, living on the streets, prostitution, begging, illness, hunger, desperation.

And these are kids.
And these are our kids.
This was MY kid.

So this topic is close to home for me.
Too close.
It hurts to know that so many of these kids have such a bleak future.
That is not an overstatement.
Bleak. Grim. Future.
They have little to no future, in fact.
This could have been my girl.
She did get lucky.
We got lucky.
I'm not posting this to say that everyone should adopt older kids.
It's very hard.
It's very different from adopting a small one.
Oh, its worth it.
But there are other ways to reach out as well.

I want everyone to SEE these kids.
I want everyone to know that these are real kids, who like jokes, ice cream, hugs, a warm shower and bed.
These kids deserve a chance, any chance.
All of these kids can use a hand.
This new initiative by Gladney, "On Their Own," is for these kids.
For our kids, these forgotten ones.
As they age out, we can help them have a bit of hope.
We can help provide some of the tools they can use to get started, safely.
To find their footing, to know that even now, someone cares.
On their own.
Donate what you can, if you can.
Buy the bracelet above, the proceeds donate, the exposure helps.
You can help them step out on their own and step past the grim, maybe.
You can help them step over into hope.
You can change a life, just by caring a little.
You can change your life, just by caring a little, for these real kids - about to be on their own.

Almost Wordless Wednesday

Obligitory Halloween Pictorial...

The other kiddos were either sick and moody or attending a better party. Hmph.
Even so, a good time was had by all!

All Souls Day

Aladar Korosfoi-Kriesch

All Souls' Day --1910 Oil on canvas,

Its the Feast of All Souls Today.
And this day is cool because its not just the Saints that we are remembering, the big leagues, but all of the little guys, the regular folks who have died - the Joe Schmoes of the world who are just the regular guy in the trenches or mom in the laundry room. But even so, these folks, so many of them, have died, gone to heaven and deserve a remembrance. It's our nature to do so.

All Souls Day in Slovakia

Sometimes folks wonder why we even bother to think of a day to remember and pray for the dead. I mean, they have passed on, no use now right? Well, no. I think, and our faith teaches us, that in fact there is great use. Our souls are immortal. They are us, the realest us. They do not die. This is an article of faith and I know many who disagree. But I believe it. To my mortal bones, I believe we have souls that are immortal.

Painting by Rubens

Therefore, when I die, I hope and pray that my loved ones, heck, ANYONE, remembers to pray for me. Because I'm gonna need it.
I need it now, I will need it more so then, because my time on earth to actively turn my heart away from my measly selfish self and around to the face of God will be done. And so while I hope and pray I am going to heaven, I suspect...if I get to heaven I will be in the foyer of heaven: purgatory.

Yup.
I said it: 'Purgatory."

One of those words! One of those polarizing kind of words.
And I wish it wasn't.
Purgatory is a beautiful, sensible concept and gives me such comfort and hope.

As I am not a theologian, nor particularly smart or insightful...but am quite opinionated, I get to give you my take on purgatory and why I think its so cool. Keep in mind, I have simplified and condensed a rich complex theological concept into terms my little old middle age wandering mind can digest. So don't get all tied up in knots over this, go read someone knows.

But, for me, this is the deal with purgatory - a "mom" take on it.
In my rambling rabbit warren of a house, we are lucky enough to have a mud room. This is the main entrance to our house by all friends and family. And you know, even when its my son coming home from college and I can't wait to see him, we stop him for a moment in the mudroom...we say "Ack! Quick scrape those boots or take 'em off, they are covered in mud!" So he does and then we hug him and pull him into the kitchen to feed him pie and have the little's jump him with glee.


This is purgatory. Or just like it, to me.

Even if we have turned our hearts to God and want only to do the best we can...we screw up, we still are impatient and ill tempered and selfish (ok, me). And when we die, we don't just all of a sudden have those hurtful acts disappear; those sins still ripple out to those we left behind. We are still 'smudgy' with that selfishness. And while we may be deeply contrite and now, after our passing, fully understand how hurtful even some of our small 'unimportant' acts or "white lies" really are.....we are not ready yet to stand in the presence of Love and Truth. Because you can't. You can't if you still have some smudges. God's Divine self/presence cannot coexist with anything less than truly pure. Because God is pure. And so, we too become so - in purgatory. Purgatory is where we take off our muddy boots. We put on some clean soft slippers or go barefoot in to the pure white of the kitchen. And then, we are hugged, hooted over, loved and we all grin and eat pie.

So today we remember and celebrate those souls who have gone before us with their hearts turned toward God: All Souls Day.

Happy Feast of All Souls!
Perhaps even in heaven, or especially in heaven, it's all about the pie!

All the Saints

The challenge of sainthood

is to go where love takes me.

Today is All Saints Day!

Another name is All Hallows Day. It follows, of course, All Hallows Eve...or, obviously, Halloween. I love that we don't just celebrate Halloween and its not just a creepy horror fest or excuse to dress up and scarf down way too much sugar (Baby Ruth's, Reeses, pie, oh my!) But that in actuality these are three days of remembrance.

Remembrance of what?
No, not only that you need to stay on your blood sugar meds or that there's always tomorrow for a new diet.
Rather, its remembrance of the dead.

Its why I think the Dia de los Muertos is cool too, not creepy. Plus of course there is usually lots of food involved, especially Pan de los Muertos (Special bread), and whats not to like about that?

Its why those Dutch Veritas paintings were all the rage way back when (Ok, ok, 16 & 17 C). They were a way of reminding us that "all is vanity" in life (You know, Eccliastes and all); this life here is but a blink.

It's remembering our dear ones who went before us, and also those who were not so dear personally perhaps, but now can be so very dear as they listen to our prayers and pray on our behalf.

Yup, I'm talking about the Saints!
We love them!

And for those who have concerns with praying to saints, I understand. But, well, here is a bit on the concept of communion of the saints. But for me, I think its one of the most cool and natural concepts of the faith and well, life in general. Because this tells us that we are connected. You all know how much I rely on those connections!

And to be connected to those who have gone before us, and who, since they no longer are bound by their human tendencies toward sin, are pure of heart and intent...to be connected to these special souls and be able to hit them up for prayers? Well, that is just too cool and a huge comfort for me.

Its a lot like asking your best girlfriend or Aunt Midge to pray for you, but knowing that the prayers will be less distracted and without any overlying layers of selfishness. For instance, "Please let Coffeemom figure this out so she will stop droning on about this, it's making me nuts." See, thats one kind of prayer that any earthly person might (ok, surely does) pray if I ask them to pray for me.

But we know that the saints will pray for God's will for us, more along the lines of "O God, come to her assistance, send the graces she needs to understand your will and thus also take pity and have mercy on her best friend." See? Much better, don't ya think? Me too.

So, today is the day that we try to recover from All Hallows eve and the food feasting and instead feast on the deep contentment and uber coolness of knowing that the saints, both the "rock star" saints and the little known ones, will pray for us and care about our little human lives.

They've been there, done that, know the traps and are cheering us on our way. What's not to like? Or celebrate? I'll take every bit of help I can get. And, blessedly, this is real help, right now....and forever. Ah....

Photo by Richard Flynn. Saints in the cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels, Los Angeles: Cecilia, Stephen, Casimir, Ignatius of Loyola, Frances of Rome, Bernardine of Siena, Thomas Aquinas, Katharine Drexel, John of God, Maximilian Kolbe, John Baptist de la Salle, Paul Chong Hasang, Moses the Ethiopian, Kateri Tekakwitha, Thomas More, Nicholas, Dominic, Mary Magdalen, Ann, and Joseph.

Happy All Saints Day!
I'm gonna go have another piece of pie!

Happy Halloween! All Hallows Eve!

Preparations are under way.
Pumpkins have been carved, and tested in the dark.
Oohs and ahs, gasped, hands clapped.
Costumes tweaked and twirled and swashbuckled about.
Pillowcases found and tested for candy collection.
Candy tested, twice even.
Or more.
Snickers are frozen (Um, to test...yeah, that's it!).
Reeses and Baby Ruths picked from the bags (Best Halloween candy. Ever)
Trick or Treating timetable set.
Weather checked and fretted over.
Kids amped up.
Parents eyeing wine and margaritas.
Dusk soon, right?
Oh.
Ok, waiting a bit.
For my sister:
Brisket is cooking for chili.
Pumpkin Pies are baking.
Corn bread and little mini hot dogs in process.
(FYI: They are rightly, traditionally, called "Little mini hot dogs" - whether or not they are mini dogs or little smokies and it is not redundant to use "little" and "mini" on such a festive occasion. It's tradition for you newbies out there. Ask my sister. She's a lawyer and the oldest. She says.).

It's All Hallows Eve.
It's Halloween!
Its tradition: exhausting, wild, ruinous for teeth and figures, and big fun.

Happy Halloween to all!

If you give a boy a straw.....

He will drink soup!

Which is a big improvement over wearing it!

Good thing our Sally O' is clever! Thanx honey!

Happy Bday Bananas!

Happy Happy Birthday to my girl, my Bananas.

I know I say this all the time, but I can't believe you are this old.
Fourteen already!

14!
Oh my goodness. And when you pointed out that next year you get a drivers permit, well, ok, I am just NOT ready for that.
But I will say, perhaps you will be, because you are growing into a lovely young woman.

Finishing up grade school and preparing for high school.
You want to go to your brother's high school so much, but recognizing the difficulty of decisions and being willing to discuss and understand the different choices.
You have grown up so much in the past year or so, physically but also in maturity.
You were our baby that we "worked so hard" to get.
Shots for months, tests, procedures, heartbreak and dreams.
Finally you arrived, with the heavens clapping for you, and carved your place in the family, by your sweet smiles but first by your colic!
We knew, the boys knew, life would never be the same and you would make way for yourself!

Happily you have a big huge heart, filled with compassion.
And you love to laugh and are willing to laugh at yourself.
You are filled to overflowing with music, it bubbles through even when you're supposed to be quiet.
But we are really enjoying your new and growing talent on the piano.
And I would love to hear you keep singing and sing more, you have a beautiful voice.
You are creative and kind.
You are moody and dramatic.
You are smarter than you realize.
You are energetic, as long as you have fully woken up.
You are another night owl in the family.
You are a social butterfly.
But have your head on straight and so know how to do that social thing with integrity and kindness.
You are full of faith, a rare thing in a child your age.
Did I mention, it was FOURTEEN?

You are goofy and fun and love to laugh.
You share a bday, almost, with your best friend, who is like part of the family.
You are beautiful.
Your smile can light up a room.
Your room is still a disaster.
You love to travel and have a bit of wanderlust.
You are torn between big city life and that country girl in you.
They say you look just like me and remind my family of me.
I'm sorry.
I think however that they are wrong.
You are beautiful and better than me, in so many ways.

You are sharing your most private space, bedroom and bath, with a brand new sis.
You are a hero for that in my eyes.
And your dads.
And your brothers.
We love you so much and am so proud of you.
I hope all your birthday wishes come true........
except for that car thing.

Happy Happy Bday Bananas!

Firsts

No adoption blog really is complete without posting that ongoing, ever growing, list of firsts. The list ranges from the mundane to the sublime, but they all have impact and are a privilege for us to witness. Fun and nervewracking, scary sometimes, sometimes hard, but really...it's always cool to expand a world, bit by bit. To find out much is out there.

So, without further ado, here it is. First post of firsts.

Obviously, first Halloween.
First supermarket.
First escalator.
First ice cream.
First airplane.
First elevator.
First dentist visit.
First extraction, ouch.
First family dinner.
First ride on a boat.
First ocean.
First beach.
First Grandma.
First Grandpa.
First trampoline.
First cousins.
First Uncles.
First Aunts.
Frst pumpkins, first jack o'lanterns.
First Disney.
First roller coaster.
First frappucino.
First football game.
First swim.
First walk on beach.
First seashells.
First dolphins.
First movie.
First computers.
First piano.
First vaccinations.
First family party.
First sentences in english.
First trouble with american mom and dad.
First forgiving.
First big family.
First brothers.
First sisters.
First autumn.
First lazy naps on the deck in the sun.....
The best thing about most of these firsts is they are just that: firsts. Most of them have many more, countless, times to experience them again. Which might not be so thrilling on the no fun ones...but some of them, ah, its just so good.

Turn-keys

So many of the things that are involved with adjusting to an adoption keep crowding into my head. So, I'm processing stuff. Which means I have to post, you know it...its how I process. Bear with me. I wish someone had talked about this stuff when I was researching wondering dreaming about it all. I know, heaps o' books out there, but for my meager mind, I need things categorized a mite differently. Maybe. All those books are so helpful and even now crowding my bookshelves and stacked on my night table. I am still using them and will be for a good long while, maybe ever.

But even so, this is how my mind parses things out:
Turn-keys.
You know how you hear about "Turn key" businesses? Where you can just step in and the biz runs properly, right out of the box?
Well adoption is the exact opposite of that.

But even so, I have decided that there ARE "turn-keys" in the adoption process, the adjustment process. And I think they really are critical to the fine tuning of an adoption, at least for us, me, our family. These are the keys that literally turn and open or close the process of adjustment (at least in my opinion, I'm just a mom, not an expert, so take this for what it is).

Sadly, there is NO ONE key to the whole process; though wouldn't that be fantastic!? But I think these are a number of keys: time, touch, trouble, trust, truth, talk, terror even. I've written about the terror often enough. And time, downtime, that is. And recently about the trouble. But one of the most important keys, a true "turn key," is one of the hardest (of course!).

Trust.
Oh my.
I think this is one of the biggest.
In some ways, it's everything.
Think about it: TRUST.
There has to be so much of that.
But how hard it is to find, to grab, to hold, to create, to hang onto?
If you have it, it seems solid..and you are more fortunate than you may realize.
If you do not, or cannot, then it can be so ephemeral, so heartbreakingly out of reach.

I think it is what we are all searching for, as much or more than happiness, or possibly, love.
Because you cannot trust without love.
Because you cannot be happy without trust.
They flow and feed each other.
So, yeah, its big.
When you have brought an older, hurt, child into your family is it gigantic.
It is everything.

Gee whiz, trust. Sounds like a basic. I have realized I really took it for granted, that foundational unquestioning trust. I trust my kids, beyond those moments of obvious lying or um, borrowing, and run of the mill kid stuff that most kids have to test out. They trust me. Even if they hate me for holding them to curfew or being strict, they still, if push came to shove, would admit that (even if I am "so wrong and clueless") I have the best intentions on their behalf. I trust my husband, I trust how things work. I trust God. Right?

Well, this adoption has taught me that actually, I have MASSIVE trust issues! (It's the curse of the control freak, always) God, husband, kids, new kid, the whole shebang. Not too fun finding that one out! But, really, helpful, because with the entrance of a new, older, child into a home....everyone's level of trust is laid on the line. And you know what? You have to deal with it.

As mom, you have to deal with it yourself and for the others too. I'd love to say that foundational trust is unshakable. And it might just be for Coffeedoc and Buddybug. And thank goodness for that! But for the rest of us? Well, it was shaken some. You can see that shake in the jealousy, the attention seeking of new and old kids, the acting out, the frazzled tempers and moods (yeah, mine too, once or twice. Ahem.). Really, so much of that turmoil stemming from questions of trust, different levels, but still the same bottom line. And for our new sweet girl? Well, its still not there for her either. How can it be?

So, how do you build trust? How do you parent a child who just plumb does not, cannot truly deeply TRUST you? Its much harder than it seems and I think its one of the huge reasons that it can be harder to adjust to older child adoption. When you've raised a child from baby or toddler that trust has a million times over to be proven built tested and reinforced.

A new child, older, coming from a completely different world and ways? Do they have that tested track record with you? No. Do you trust them immediately in the same way as your children already at home? Honestly? You can't. You don't know them well enough yet to know their expressions moods triggers. You don't know when the honeymoon will switch to a meltdown or if it will even. So that takes time to trust and anticipate their actions and reactions. And so, until you build that foundation of trust.... Well, you're flying, um parenting, without a net.
And for the new child? Well, that trust is gonna be a long time coming, deep down. They might well trust that you will feed house and clothe them. But the deep trust, the kind that withstands the misunderstandings, the corrections, the grief the anger the complete discombobulation....that isn't there, not really. And so when they feel like they are drowning in all the change how do they trust you will save them, pull them up and not let go? Well, maybe they don't. Or maybe they are trying, but you have to do your part. Which is: be there, hang on, get over yourself (Now don't get all worked up and think I'm judging, I am totally typing about ME here), and don't let go.

Sounds easy. It's not.

But as you do it, you both are reaching a bit toward each other. Even the silly kinds of trust make such a huge difference. That you can tease and just be a little silly, for fun not hurt. And that really ice cream seems weird but is wonderful, try it. And that if mom says she will come in and kiss you goodnight when she gets home, she will. Heck, even that, just like a small child needs to learn, I always come back.

And just that effort, that repeated reaching, I think {and continue to hope and pray}, brings you (ok, me) all a bit closer, laces your heart to the other....a tiny bit at a time. It may not feel like it at all. And trust is really something that doesn't feel like much except a sort of sureness, an absence of fear. But it is the grounding for the feelings that feel like everything: happiness, love, joy.

So, really, I would love someone to hand me a shiny big ol' turn key to all this, to precisely fit this one critical lock. And then to open the door to a deep firm trust, for all of us. Trust in each other, trust in love, trust in the time and effort, trust in the good, trust without hurt, trust without doubt or question or fret. But I guess this particular turn-key is crafted from the clay of our (OK, my measly) hearts, bodies, and just plain old presence, again and again and again - for the whole family, old and new. But this key, once its made, will be one to treasure tight.