tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59944077339603301742023-11-16T05:05:56.836-08:00Our Blessed Hot MessAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994407733960330174.post-47011506035671775852018-02-28T11:28:00.001-08:002018-02-28T12:31:02.806-08:00Today Was a Good DayIt's been a long time since I have written on this blog. This is because life has been overwhelmingly hard for the past 6 months or so. Mike accepted a different position which required us to relocate once again to another state. We have all been adjusting and getting settled into our new normal. One of the girls has not fared well throughout these many transitions and changes. Only a select few of you know what's been going on these past few months. It's been incredibly hard for our entire family, but today was a good day.<br />
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As soon as we moved here C started spiraling out of control and it just kept getting worse. We got her in with a therapist that was covered under our insurance, but she had the foresight from day one that she was not quite qualified to assist C with the issues she was experiencing and she suggested we get her into intensive in home therapy. This made a lot of sense to us since 100% of her issues were occurring in the home. Our stumbling block was that this therapy was not covered by our insurance. In the meantime we were able to secure a diagnosis of Reactive Attachment Disorder (I will write more about this in a later post).<br />
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Today Mike and I appeared before a board of people who are the ones who decide if we would get the funding we applied for or not. C's school social worker has been a God send and has helped me through this application process. VA has funds set aside for interventions that would prevent a child from going into the foster care system. Obviously for us disrupting her adoption is not an option, but nevertheless this is where the funding we applied for comes from. We applied for funding to cover 8 hours a week of intensive in home therapy for the next 12 weeks and we were APPROVED!<br />
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You may be thinking "I wouldn't want a stranger in my home for that much of my time every week!". I agree and feel the same way, however, this is how we are going to help our girl. We have to make sacrifices. All of us need help in how to cope with her behaviors and manipulation. It won't be forever, it's just a season.<br />
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I then had a meeting with the professionals at the school about any possible accommodations we felt she may need at school. Let me point out that they came to ME asking for this meeting. This is amazing to be because in Ohio I had to fight and get an advocate just to get a meeting about accommodations for one of the girls. C isn't having any issues at school, in fact she presents as a very sweet, helpful and well adjusted kiddo. While this is a good thing, it makes me feel like a nut job whenever I am telling teachers what is going on at home. Today the vice principal looked me in the eye and made sure I knew that they 100% believe me and do not want me to feel like they think I'm crazy. I melted into a puddle of tears. We are so blessed to be at this school with these professionals that GET IT! That's so rare! Also, a bonus, was there were donuts at this meeting. Some people drink when they're stressed, I eat carbs and sugar! <br />
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I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. My full time job, since we moved here, has been managing her appointments, finding professionals, calling insurance companies and trying to access resources. I can finally exhale. I ask that you pray for our girl. Pray for healing for her heart and mind. Pray that she can learn to allow herself to be loved. Pray that I can take some time to do some self care as I am so weary. Thank you all for your love and support.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994407733960330174.post-87769922629532002522017-05-15T18:05:00.001-07:002017-05-15T20:28:30.492-07:00Requirements to be a Mother?You don't expect to walk out of a church service on Mother's Day feeling defensive and ready to write an email to the pastor. That's exactly what happened yesterday. It was all very well intentioned, however I felt ON FIRE for my fellow adoptive mamas.<br />
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It started out by the pastor asking fun questions to the audience of probably at least 200 church goers. "Who gave birth to the largest baby?" he asked, which was followed by multiple mothers in the audience raising their hands and sharing the weight of their very large babies, the winner got a flower from the worship leader. "Who was in labor the longest?" was the next question followed by the same result. The rest of the moms in my eye line seemed to be enjoying this little competition and hearing these horror stories of birth. The final question was geared toward grandmothers. Those were the three questions that they used to encompass all mothers.<br />
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How do you think that made the woman feel who has had 4 miscarriages and has been unable to carry her babies full term? How did that make those mothers feel who have adopted children after years of infertility. Those woman who would have given anything to give birth to that 11lb baby after 76 hours of labor. This tells all adoptive/foster mothers that being in labor and giving birth is a requirement for being a mother. Obviously this is not the case.<br />
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Even though I didn't experience the heart wrenching struggle of infertility or miscarriages, my heart broke in pieces for those in the congregation who certainly have felt that pain and heartache. I wasn't offended as much as I felt fiercely protective of my tribe of other adoptive moms. It's not about getting that elusive flower on mother's day for winning the competition, it's about being included and having society consider them just as much of a mother as if they had given birth to their children. I know I can speak for all adoptive mothers when I say that I couldn't love my children more if I had given birth to them. They are my world. They are my greatest gifts from God and I thank Him for them every day.<br />
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All mothers should be revered, respected and honored, no matter how we became mothers. Although we didn't go through hours of painful labor, you better believe we went through MANY more hours of paperwork, interviews, inspections and then waiting. We wanted to be mothers just as much as anyone else and we worked very hard for it. So, please, when you find out we are mothers via adoption, just treat us like you would any other mother. We are no better or no less than any other, we just want to be seen as equal.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994407733960330174.post-61969494840596623522016-06-24T20:12:00.002-07:002016-06-24T20:12:04.051-07:00The Lost Years- Secondary TraumaMike and I are sitting here watching TV tonight and 20/20 comes on. They're talking about a case from 2011, the case of missing college student Lauren Spierer. They stated it was one of the most well known missing person cases of all time. I consider myself someone who keeps up with current events, sometimes I even get pulled into stories and (admittedly) obsess over them. But this one, it didn't ring a bell...at all. I asked Mike, "Do you remember this?". He didn't either. Then we realized the year...2011.<br />
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Mike lovingly refers to the years of 2010 and 2011 as our own personal 'Nam, because there are long periods of time, many significant events, that neither one of us remember. We have blocked them out I suppose, similar (although obviously incomparable) to what a soldier, post war, may experience. They were indeed the most trying years of our lives so far. <br />
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These were the first years we had the twins home.<br />
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Here's a perfect example of our lapse in memory. In 2012 I said I wanted to go to Columbus for my birthday to go to the science museum and the famous Columbus Zoo. About halfway through our day at the zoo we came upon the polar bear exhibit. Something seemed familiar, there was a playground at the entrance of the exhibit that I could have sworn I had pictures of the girls playing on before. I asked the zoo employee if the Cleveland Zoo had a similar exhibit and he told me no, that the Columbus Zoo was the only one in the state that had polar bears, let alone that very same playground. I'm sure he thought I had forgotten to take my meds that morning or something!<br />
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Here we are in 2012:<br />
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We finished our day at the zoo, both of us trying to remember when we would have brought them to Columbus before then. We were able to rule out that we had taken them the previous summer so that only left the summer of 2010...right after we brought them home. We wouldn't have been that crazy!! There's no way!! We were so broke!! How would we have even afforded it? Where would we have stayed?? To this day we can't answer those questions folks, but I do have photo evidence that we were at the Columbus Zoo the summer of 2010.<br />
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Here is the infamous polar bear playground photo (apparently my sole memory from this visit)...<br />
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Parents of kids from trauma will attest to this, but there is such a thing as secondary trauma, and most of us who are parenting trauma kiddos would fit the bill for this diagnosis. We get PTSD from our kids' PTSD. It's a vicious cycle. You can read more about this <a href="http://emergingmama.com/4-reasons-parenting-trauma-is-incredibly-difficult/" target="_blank">here</a>. <a href="http://www.amysugenocounseling.com/secondary-trauma-in-adoptive-parents/" target="_blank">This article</a> states it best:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Because these behaviors serve as a way for their child to communicate
and express how their trauma has affected them, parents are, thus,
being exposed, on a regular basis, to their child’s trauma<span style="color: teal;"><em>.</em></span> Parents who are experiencing secondary trauma may: feel anxious,
tense, easily overwhelmed, and have sleep difficulties; re-experience
their child’s aggressive, suicidal, or self-harming behaviors or details
of their child’s trauma; feel as if they have changed and are not
themselves anymore; or wish to escape or avoid their child or their
child’s behaviors."</blockquote>
Those first two years with the twins were so wrought with trauma that our brains had blocked so much of it out completely!<br />
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We spent most of our days doing behavior modification. Our girls were so filled with rage, coupled with the fact that they didn't speak English so they couldn't communicate their feelings, even if they were capable at 4 years old of putting it into words. They would scream, kick, hit, spit and bite. We spent a good amount of their waking hours teaching them the basics of how to behave, using holds that would assist them in calming themselves and their bodies. We would find out later that they both have what's called <a href="http://www.spdfoundation.net/about-sensory-processing-disorder/" target="_blank">Sensory Processing Disorder</a> (very common in children from trauma) so the pressure of the holds would physically help them calm down. (Now we have weighted blankets).<br />
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I am so thankful that I took so many pictures those first two years so that they can fill in the major gaps in my memory and so that the girls have a beautiful pictorial representation of all of the fun we did have those first two years. They made SO MUCH PROGRESS in those years that it was unbelievable. I do remember those hopeless days when we thought we'd never get to the point that they could function in a school environment, never go to a friend's house to play and never be calm enough that our cats would come out of hiding around them! If you are in that place, the abyss of the unknowns about your child, please know there is always hope! They will improve and so will you. You will learn to be their best advocate and you will learn how to parent them, even if it was different than you thought you'd parent. God will give you the strength if you ask for it. I still have to ask Him for help, strength, patience, grace and love for my kids on a daily basis. Most importantly YOU ARE NOT ALONE and YOU ARE NOT CRAZY!!<br />
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It's pretty amazing what our brains do in order to cope with things. It makes me wonder if other parents have these experiences. One of my best friends had a baby that had a very rough first year of life. He struggled with acid reflux so badly that this child cried CONSTANTLY. Perhaps she experiences some lapses in time due to that traumatic year. If you have a story about a period of your life that your brain blocked out, leave it in the comments! It will help me not feel so crazy!! Ha!<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994407733960330174.post-58519533380532925562016-02-09T18:19:00.000-08:002016-02-09T18:19:21.158-08:0010th Birthday SurpriseHello again! I haven't posted since September and for that I apologize. This thing called life got in the way. Something happened this evening, however, that I had to get down into words.<br />
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Tomorrow is the twins' 10th birthday. We decided to let them open a couple of gfits tonight (from the grandmas) since they were things they would want to wear to school tomorrow. (Also, because they got new shoes and Celia has to use a shoe box to make a Valentine's box that's due tomorrow, so we needed the box, LOL) So, after the FaceTime calls to grandmas so they could see the girls opening their gifts, they both went upstairs to their room. They came down to the basement to find me riffling through my scrapbook stuff (with cobwebs all over it) to try to find some heartsy things for Celia to use to decorate her box.<br />
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"Here", they said as they handed me a pencil zipper pouch. "What's this?" I asked. "We've been saving up our money since Christmas, and with the birthday money we just got, we now have $100 to go toward our trip to Ethiopia." Insert shocked face here. They've shocked us in the past with their generosity (you can read about that <a href="http://ourblessedhotmess.blogspot.com/2015/03/unexpected-parenting-win.html" target="_blank">here</a>), but this was a whole other level.<br />
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As I've stated in a <a href="http://ourblessedhotmess.blogspot.com/2015/05/blessed-by-birthmothers-across-globe.html" target="_blank">previous post</a> we have been working with an investigator for nearly a year who found the twins' birthmother. Our plan is to go visit her and the twins' sisters in Ethiopia for their 12th birthday. We have had an ongoing relationship with their family through our investigator and our Ethiopian friends here in the states who can call their birthmother's phone and translate for us. The girls know they are now our extended family and our families and friends united in the fall to send the funds over to pay for tuition for their sisters at the school of their mother's choice. You can read about that more <a href="http://here./">here.</a> It's been incredibly healing for all of us.<br />
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But, they are kids and that is some pretty heavy stuff to process. I've given them time and space to process it and tried not to nag about how they feel about it all. They tell me in small ways. They all three sleep with photo albums of their birth families in their beds, and on a recent trip to Ohio for the holidays, they even packed them in their suitcase with no prodding by me. I still wasn't sure how they felt about our plans to go to Ethiopia in two years. Now I know.<br />
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One of our favorite people in the world is Amsale, my Ethiopian mama in Akron. I spoke with her and asked if she would call the twins' mother soon to check in and see how they're doing. She had the idea of calling her on the twins' birthday! After the twins handed me the money, and I picked my jaw up off of the floor, I told them that Amsale was calling her tomorrow and I wanted Amsale to tell their mother about this. Their smiles lit up the room. I saw their love for this woman in their eyes. A woman they feel so guilty for not remembering now. A woman who stirs up some very complicated feeling for them. But I saw the healing tonight in their eyes. God is healing them through this incredible story he's using us in.<br />
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So this week we will go to the bank and open a new account. Mike and I also got a good chunk of change as a Christmas gift from my parents to get this account started. I recently started working full time so that we would have the extra money to sock away. I also am starting on a journey of selling this nutritional drink that is helping my own health, with all of the income I make from that going straight into this savings account for our trip. Our girls are aware of this goal we are working towards and they've decided to join us.<br />
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The timing of this was critical for me. They're kids, and as such they can be pretty big a-holes a lot of the time. The twins are also getting close to that snotty, snarky age, which I have no patience for. Every day I am shutting it down. It's exhausting, and most days I wonder if they're going to turn out to be jerks. It's rare that I have the energy, patience and grace to deal with the attitudes in a loving and teaching way. I just shut it down and send them to their room until they're ready to be nice. But, tonight I feel good. Tonight I know that they are learning selflessness. Tonight they are healing and value us working as a family towards a common goal. Tonight I not only love them, but I like them and I am cherishing them.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994407733960330174.post-79871355282256171082015-09-05T19:04:00.001-07:002015-09-05T19:04:43.287-07:00A Very Different Kind of "Back to School" PostMy heart is overflowing with joy. As I sit here the past two days on Facebook reading everyone's complaints and woes, I am struck at our country's lack of perspective and gratitude. How spoiled and self-righteous are we as a nation when we complain about our "first world problems" whilst people around the world fight for their right to simply live.<br />
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On Wednesday we, as a family, watched a documentary on Netflix called "On the Way to School". It follows the lives of four different children in four different countries and documents their journey to school every day. None of the kids in the film walked less than an hour each way to school daily. One child had to watch out for elephant stampedes, while another pushed their brother, who was in a wheelchair, through very rugged terrain for over an hour. Yet we complain. After the film I was struck when the first words out of Charlotte's mouth was "When are we sending the money to send my sisters to school?". Little did she know that I had been working on this very task over the past few days with our friend Workineh in Ethiopia.<br />
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I want to preface this post with the fact that Mike and I are no saints. This story is of God and only possible through God. We are simply following God's call on our lives. He is the one making all of this possible, so please join us in praising Him and not us. <br />
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As many of you already know we hired an investigator back in May and were able to locate both birth mothers of our girls. You can read ore about that story <a href="http://ourblessedhotmess.blogspot.com/2015/05/blessed-by-birthmothers-across-globe.html" target="_blank">here</a>. We knew the twins had two sisters, one is now 7 and the other is 12. In the interest of their privacy I will refer to them as K and N. Once we found them I had a strong desire to make sure these girls were in a good school. Since May I have been working with Workineh (our investigator turned friend) as well as our Ethiopian friend here in the states to determine what the best way to go about this would be. Mike and I wanted to make sure we weren't trying to swoop in and be all "white savior" about the way we wanted to help.<br />
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This summer, while visiting family in Ohio, we were able to call the twins' birthmother, Abinet, ON THE PHONE!!!! Our friend, and Godsend, Amsale in Ohio had her phone number from when the investigator told us that Abinet did have a phone. Amsale happened to be in Ethiopia visiting her family in May when Workineh found Abinet, so she was able to talk with her on the phone 2 times while she was there. We were sitting up in a bedroom in Amsale's house. Our main goal of the phone call was to let Abinet know how we would like to help and find out what kind of school she would like the girls to go to. <br />
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An interesting side note is the twins' response to our phone call to Abinet. One girl wanted to stand in the room to just listen, but did not want to say anything. The other wanted nothing to do with the call. I mention this to emphasize that these are BIG and COMPLICATED feelings that they are sorting through. They each sleep with a scarf tied around their waist that Amsale brought back for them from Ethiopia that she told them was from Abinet. They love their first mother, but yet, there's so many feelings! Mike and I are very intentional about letting them lead as far as how much, and what, involvement they want in this whole process. <br />
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In Ethiopia a boarding school is the most prestigious school. In my gut, I didn't think she would want to send them to a boarding school. She already had to part with two of her kids due to terrible circumstances and I felt that she wouldn't want the other two out of her house. I was correct. She was so moved by our offer and asked why we wanted to help her. All of us were crying. We told her, through Amsale's translation, that she is now a part of our family and we help our family. We conveyed to her how much we loved her and her other daughters and how we wish to come to visit her in three years. At one point in the phone call she said "God made these girls (the twins) for you." My response was "No, he made them for you, but we are so blessed to help."<br />
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She chose the school she wanted and let Workineh know how much tuition, the entrance fee, uniforms and school supplies would be. The total for BOTH girls was...$310 for the entire year. We are blessed with an incredible group of friends and family who all waned to participate in helping our new family members, which allowed us to send some extra money for school clothes, shoes, etc.<br />
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I sent the money to Workineh through Western Union on Wednesday and he traveled to their town on Thursday. He sent me some pictures. God is so good guys!<br />
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Here are K & N modeling their new school clothes, shoes and backpacks.</div>
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These are some of their new school books.</div>
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This is the fabric that has been taken to a tailor to be made into their school uniforms. School starts on September 18th.</div>
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N, Abninet and K showing the photo album I made back in May for them of pictures of the twins from the entire time they've been with us. Workineh delivered it to them on this trip. </div>
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Here are the girls standing outside the school compound.</div>
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I need to express to you that through this entire process we have been very transparent and open with the twins. They know everything, every detail we discovered about their birthfamily. Some of it wasn't ideal, obviously. This has brought the twins so much healing and helped them bond with us on a whole other level. Their trust in us has grown exponentially. They see our love for them shown through our love for their first family. It helps that they no longer need to worry about what ever happened to their first family, especially their sisters. We will always keep in touch and make sure they're ok, as much as is possible.</div>
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In no way has this discovery made me feel any "less" their mother. I have not felt threatened in any way. I feel closer to them knowing their history. It has made me love their first family like they're my own. It has opened my eyes and broken my heart for what breaks God's. It has brought me closer to God. He has been in every small detail of this whole experience. I pray for Abinet everyday. I wear a bracelet that says "enat" {mother in Amharic} to remind me to pray for her. </div>
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I sleep better at night knowing I am doing all I can to help them. It has brought our whole family here, and friends, together for such an amazing reason. Our family has made us feel so loved, and again it shows the twins that they can trust all of us. I sleep better knowing that this woman halfway around the world knows she's not forgotten. She knows her babies are loved and cherished. She knows that God has heard her prayers and is using us to help answer some of them. That is an incredible honor.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994407733960330174.post-12662713004319557532015-06-01T18:25:00.002-07:002015-06-01T18:25:20.180-07:00Family Zumba...Good Lord!<b>There are not many times that I have the thought "I wish someone was filming our life right now. This is incredibly entertaining", but tonight was one of those times. I swear that our family can not do anything in a normal or inconspicuous way. We recently joined the YMCA and tonight the girls and I went to a family Zumba class.</b><br />
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<b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLCNpskHBejfUDzkF2JBBLXvgtrH5ui8xSH_nWDdh1-k8RKkJp0ZIGFXYTnhGbu6VYOA8aT0v0BFTPGuCnzLK_qKFitfH4hZsH7-M_WoQxt_kzYXscLAw6om3F22ogjyxjUBPPKxrZv_0/s1600/family-zumba.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLCNpskHBejfUDzkF2JBBLXvgtrH5ui8xSH_nWDdh1-k8RKkJp0ZIGFXYTnhGbu6VYOA8aT0v0BFTPGuCnzLK_qKFitfH4hZsH7-M_WoQxt_kzYXscLAw6om3F22ogjyxjUBPPKxrZv_0/s320/family-zumba.png" width="320" /></a></b></div>
<b>First of all let me just say that when I read the name of the class I assumed that the class would be a bit less difficult. Kind of like how I want to go to a senior yoga class (for real folks, I think I might just sneak in and pretend one of those ladies is my grandma!!). I am easing back into physical activity since my surgery and knew I was not ready for a full on Zumba class. Talk about false advertising, good Lord! This teacher led us down a full on, hard core, exhausting hour of Zumba! The girls did a good job at attempting to keep up. Each girl had a different experience.</b><br />
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<b>Caroline LOVED it. She was grinning from ear to ear the entire time. Every time the teacher did a new or difficult move Caroline would twist her sassy and expressive little face into the most hilarious looks and kept cracking the teacher up. She never even took a break to get water. Apparently they did Zumba in her 2nd grade class sometimes as energizers, because Mrs. Speckman is da bomb.</b><br />
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<b>Charlotte was very intense. She hardly smiled because she was so focused on trying to figure out the moves, and unfortunately the girl has no rhythm and very little coordination. She was not a fan because she could feel that it was working her stomach muscles.</b><br />
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<b>Celia, oh Celia my dear love. I was hesitant to even take her since she's five (although her emotional age is more like a 3 year old) plus she finds any excuse to complain about everything...EVERYTHING. She does love to dance though so I let her come to check it out. In the beginning she seemed to have fun. She was making the older ladies in the class laugh a lot when she would shake her cute little booty. About 30 minutes in she started to cry because she wanted to leave the class and go running around the track. At this point, for the sake of making it through the last half hour, I told her she could just do her own moves, dance however she wanted. That helped. With 10 minutes left she asked me who she was supposed to be watching. That might explain her look of confusion for the previous 50 minutes. She's my blonde.</b><br />
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<b>As I said before I went into this expecting it to be lower impact than typical Zumba and am still very out of shape. I am also recovering from my third intestinal resectioning surgery from Crohn's Disease. So it came as no surprise to me that about 40 minutes into the class I feel something below the belt that made me panic. Was it booty sweat or was it something more???!! Oh good Lord, did I just poop my pants at family Zumba class?? I went to the bathroom and much to my relief it was simply sweat. I, in fact, was dripping with sweat and, when I looked in the mirror, my face was as red as my red t-shirt I was wearing. Like, for real, only a shade away from fire engine red. As I went back into the class I noticed that all of the other women in the class were older than me, like significantly. All of them were as pale as me, and NONE of them had red faces! LOL! Once again, the older chicks were in better shape than me and kicking my butt at Zumba. This felt very familiar since I had the same experience in a <a href="http://ourblessedhotmess.blogspot.com/2014/01/jazzercizenot-for-faint-of-heart.html" target="_blank">Jazzercise class last year which I blogged about then as well</a>.</b><br />
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<b>Here's another observation I made. If you've ever taken a Zumba or <a href="http://ourblessedhotmess.blogspot.com/2014/01/jazzercizenot-for-faint-of-heart.html" target="_blank">Jazzercise</a> class, you may have had that moment where you are in the groove, you are keeping up! You must look pretty good doing this! You think to yourself "After this class the instructor is probably going to come ask me if I've done this before. She will probably tell me that I should become a teacher myself! I am rocking this!" Then you make the mistake of looking at yourself in the mirror. OH NO! Who is that freak looking back at you?! Turns out that you don't look nearly as cute and coordinated doing it in real life as you do in your head! I danced competitively for my entire childhood and even was on the dance team of a professional sports team in college, and even I look like a silly fool during these classes! </b><br />
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<b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0xfDxUH2Nd85exiX54c0pSKU3UFzLLr-V5SL_vQmXYL8Wk0tdzBZpwUgTQ4ZvRz2UbpWXEOq5Hwucnpv4I-l1Cvq9hXS0nl1AxNmR1IDYEMqUCg97Z3JzU4dsBuKk6Dlcx93aofS8Aco/s1600/funny+zumba.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0xfDxUH2Nd85exiX54c0pSKU3UFzLLr-V5SL_vQmXYL8Wk0tdzBZpwUgTQ4ZvRz2UbpWXEOq5Hwucnpv4I-l1Cvq9hXS0nl1AxNmR1IDYEMqUCg97Z3JzU4dsBuKk6Dlcx93aofS8Aco/s1600/funny+zumba.jpg" /></a></b></div>
<b>So in conclusion, thank you Zumba instructor for throwing me into the deep end of getting back into shape. I may not be able to walk for three days, or shower, or brush my hair, but I know I will be stronger in the end. It was pretty fun and entertaining to take an exercise class with my kiddos though. I think Caroline and I will go back again...once I recover! </b>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994407733960330174.post-470289752954716702015-05-27T20:53:00.000-07:002015-05-27T21:06:24.046-07:00The Twins' Adoption Story (part two)<b>The original family was not the right placement for the girls and they knew it. Many mistakes were made by our adoption agency. Their first family made the difficult choice to disrupt the adoption knowing it was in the best interest of the girls in the long term. They needed to be the only children in the family, they had a lot of special needs that needed to be addressed. It just so happened that the girls fit the description of what we were looking for. Oh, and you know those insurmountable obstacles that popped up during our homestudy? Yeah, those weren't even an issue now because, since the twins were already in the US, this would be considered a domestic adoption and none of those things were even an issue. (Props, God!) So over the next 2 weeks we got to meet them and visit with them everyday and by the end of those 2 weeks they were living with us full time. BAM, instant family!</b><br />
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<b><span style="color: black;">At this point I felt a wave of calm come over me as I realized that I no
longer could give God the silent treatment. I needed him. This was
not going to be easy. These 4 year olds spoke no English, they were in
diapers, and they had severe behavior problems. It was like jumping
into the deep end of the pool without any swimming experience, no life
jackets and no life guards. We just had to figure it out.<br /><br />We
spent the next few months in a bubble. We couldn’t leave the house.
The girls had to be completely socialized. They knew nothing of being in
a family, had no idea of social norms or socially acceptable behavior.
The amazing part of it all was that even though they had been through so
much in such a short amount of time, they were so open and loving to
us. They began bonding with us so willingly. Those months were filled
with a mixture of tantrums, dance parties, physical restraints, and hair
salon parties, but all of it brought us closer.</span></b></div>
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<b>Their English became so good so fast, no one could believe it. And,
with the help of many professionals, their behavior was improving as
well. They began preschool and did wonderfully! We still had many
struggles behaviorally and I’m sure the library considered calling
Children Protective Services based on what I was checking out at the
library! I read everything from “The Rage Free Child” to “The Out of
Sync Child” along with any other creative consequences books. According
to the books we were doing everything right, but our kids just didn’t
fit the molds of these books so we just prayed and did the best we knew
how. </b></div>
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<b>Along the way they’ve been diagnosed with a whole myriad of disorders, ADHD, Sensory Processing Disorder, Reactive Attachment Disorder and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and the medications have been an amazing tool for helping them cope with all of the change and trauma. It wasn’t until the summer of 2011 when we were sitting at the table that we really understood the scope of what their little brains were dealing with. At the dinner table we start talking about their life in Ethiopia. They weren’t often open about talking about it, but this night they were. They told us in their broken English, that they lived in a mud hut, with a dirt floor with their mother and older sister. They bathed, drank and relieved themselves in the same river. Once their mother had another baby is when she relinquished them to the orphanage. We later found out in 2015 when we hired an investigator what the <a href="http://ourblessedhotmess.blogspot.com/2015/05/blessed-by-birthmothers-across-globe.html" target="_blank">whole story</a> was.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>As I think back about everything I am amazed at how God works. I know now that losing my job was such a blessing because I got to spend those last precious weeks with my dear Geeta. I believe God used Geeta to tell me what His plan was since I sure wasn’t listening to Him! The black mold we discovered during our homestudy forced us to move into a beautiful large home with 4 bedrooms, and 2 twin beds that were already there from my childhood. That’s what the girls sleep in every night. The disrupted adoption meant that I did not have to travel to Ethiopia, which was going to be difficult because of my health. It also saved our family a lot of money not having to travel. God's timing is always PERFECT. If we had not started the process when we did (when it made no sense for us to do so) we wouldn't have been ready for our daughters. Listen to God people!</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Through this amazing experience I went from being a control freak, to working hard to be an open book for God. I try everyday to soak in everything he is trying to convey to me. I know now that God has wonderful things in store for our family and I don’t want to miss any cues from him!</b><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994407733960330174.post-6228322795450940632015-05-27T20:52:00.003-07:002015-05-27T21:06:38.942-07:00The Twins' Adoption Story (part one)<b>In the fall of 2009 I felt very angry with God, in fact I was giving him the silent treatment. After abruptly losing my job, we had a sudden death in the family and then my dear friend Geeta lost her battle with breast cancer.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>I proceeded to spend the next few months wallowing in self pity. Finally one day I felt my friend Geeta with me. I felt her saying to me “Get off of your butt and stop being sad. It’s time to make your own happiness!” Before she passed away we had had many conversations about international adoption since she and her husband had adopted from Guatemala. So I just keep feeling her nagging me to start looking into it. I had the time, so I researched different agencies and countries and made a nice organized spreadsheet.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>I presented all of this to Mike who was definitely on board, but concerned. You see, it definitely did NOT make any sense for us to do this now. I had lost my job (still on unemployment) and he was serving tables at the Olive Garden trying to finish up his PhD. We lived in a small 2 bedroom apartment with not a whole lot of extra income at the end of the month, let alone extra thousands of dollars lying around to be able to afford this! We knew we wanted to adopt eventually because we both have some serious genetic health issues on both sides of our families that we didn’t want to risk passing onto our children. But now? My brain knew it didn’t make sense but my heart wasn’t listening! </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Not long after I began my research I got a call from my cousin Kimberly. We had become closer since the sudden passing of her mother. She offered me a full time job working for her! Looking back I see that as soon as I was blindly following God's call for my life, he was providing for our needs.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>After Christmas we really began finalizing our choices as far as agency and country. We chose our agency because it was the same one that Geeta had gone through and we chose Ethiopia because the kids were healthy, they were being hyped as not having attachment issues (HA!), and they were beautiful! It was a new program so there was less red tape and less of a wait time.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Now came the issue of financing this. We starting some fundraisers that yielded small profits but realized we were going to have to come up with a better plan. I am blessed enough to have very generous and well off grandparents, so we wrote up a business plan of how we would pay them back and presented it to them. This was a very big chunk of change we were asking to borrow but luckily for us they said yes and we were on our way!</b><br />
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<b>We started our homestudy in mid-February 2010. When our social worker came out to our home, one of the many times, she asked about the possibility of us adopting 2 children. After talking it over we decided that we never wanted only one child so why not go ahead and get 2 at the same time, preferably biological siblings! We figured at least if they are going to look nothing like us, they can at least look like each other! So we got approved for 2 children and when we said we didn’t want to request a gender, we were informed that we would probably get 2 boys then, because most people have been requesting girls. At this information my husband, who grew up with no sisters, says “Wouldn’t it be cool if we got twin girls!”. I said “No! You have no idea the kind of drama that would come along with that! Two prom dresses, two weddings, and let’s not forget the hormones!!”</b><br />
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<b>There were a few road blocks that we ran into during our homestudy process. For one, when we were married I chose to change my middle name to my maiden name. I was told at the Social Security office that I could do that and was not informed that any other legal action needed to be taken. Well, it turns out that I needed to go to probate court to officially change it legally. Due to strange rules I was going to have to wait an entire year before I'd be allowed to go to probate court for this which was going to set us back an entire year! My doctors were also NOT fond of me going to a third world country in Africa since I was on so many immune-suppressant medications. There were some vaccines that were recommended that were live viruses, which I was told I was not allowed to have because of the meds I was taking. Many tears were shed over these seemingly insurmountable obstacles.</b><br />
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<b>During this process our agency connected us with another family who was local and also adopting from Ethiopia through the same agency. We became Facebook friends and had sent a couple of emails back and forth. When they made their trip in late March to pick up their children, I found myself glued to my computer! I just kept looking at their pictures. I was amazed with the scenery, and the culture and of course, the children. I showed her pictures to everyone I knew. When my </b><br />
<b>mom saw the pictures of the children this family was bringing home, she gasped and said “Oh Sarah, can’t you just have them? They’re beautiful!!”. My response, of course, was that I was pretty sure it didn’t work like that!</b><br />
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<b>We were moving into my grandparents former house that spring. On April 30th everything changed. All of our things were in boxes as we were moving the following day. Our phone rang at about 8pm. Our adoption agency was on the other end, asking us how we would feel about adopting twin 4 year old girls. We were in shock! Our homestudy wasn't even finished yet! When we ask when, her response is just “soon, very soon”! We asked them to give us the night to pray about it.</b><br />
<b>From their description of the girls’ ages I knew it was the same 2 little girls I had been looking at pictures of over the last 2 weeks. So we logged onto our computer and looked at their pictures again…and wept. These were our daughters!!</b><br />
<br />
<a href="http://ourblessedhotmess.blogspot.com/2015/05/the-twins-adoption-story-part-two.html" target="_blank">Read part two for the rest of the story! </a><br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994407733960330174.post-69678077430820881642015-05-09T19:44:00.000-07:002015-05-10T15:00:18.018-07:00Blessed By Birthmothers Across the Globe<b>Last week we hired an investigator halfway around the world in Ethiopia and this week we have pictures and information about all of our daughters' birth mothers. MIND BLOWN.</b><br />
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<b>It has literally been a million times easier to find these women in rural Ethiopia, living in mud huts, than it has to get my license plates switched over from Ohio to Pennsylvania, which still has not happened and we've lived here nearly a year.</b><br />
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<b>Mike and I have been saying for the past 4 years that as soon as we got our 2011 tax refund, which includes our adoption tax credit, that we would hire an investigator to look into the twins' birth family. Because this tax refund took a whopping FOUR YEARS to get straightened out, this has seemed like an elusive goal, something out of our reach. Thanks to my superhero tax attorney Uncle Mike we were able to finally get the refund and not 2 weeks later I saw a question on an Ethiopian Adoption Support Group page I follow on Facebook. There was a woman asking for a recommendation for an investigator and it just so happened that my friend Scott commented. I sent Scott a message to ask more about this man he was recommending and his response was that this man was like a part of his family, a Christian and one of Scott's best friends. SOLD.</b><br />
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<b>I reached out to this man on Facebook, who lives in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. I gave him all of the information I have from the paperwork from their adoptions. I've had a few friends go through this process and find out that most, if not all, of the information that was in their adoption paperwork was a lie, so there was no guaranteeing this information I was giving him was factual. I figured we'd wait a couple of months to find anything out.</b><br />
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<b>Imagine my surprise when only a couple of days later he was in the village that the twins were born in. He had information. Mike and I held our breaths when opening the email and reading his report. </b><br />
<br />
<b>We hardly knew anything about the twins' story, beside what they could remember and verbalize to us in their broken English when they were four. They talked about a mom figure, but called her by her first name. This mom was on the paperwork once as their mother and yet on another set of paperwork she was listed as a guardian. We weren't certain if she was the mom or an eldest sister. They also spoke of an older sister and a baby sister. Charlotte named all of her baby dolls after this baby sister and missed her dearly in that first year with us. Even after being with us for nearly 3 years I remember a night where she broke down and wept because she was worried about her baby sister in Ethiopia. My heart broke not being able to give her those answers she was craving.</b><br />
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<b>Now we had the information in our lap and we prayed that it was good news that would be healing. We opened the report and read it together before sharing it with the girls. It turns out it was their mother and she is well, living with the other two daughters. While the paperwork said that their father died, it turns out he just up and left once the baby sister was born, leaving their mother with no way to support her family. She was in an impossible situation. She relinquished custody of the twins when they were 3 (6 years ago) and had not heard a word about their whereabouts since. She was so happy to see the pictures of the girls that we sent with our investigator. She wept over them for a long time, he told us, and she had a hard time speaking. I cannot even imagine not knowing where your children were and if they were ok for SIX YEARS. The girls' sisters are also well, looking to be about 13 and 6 years old. The younger one looks like a crazy awesome combination of the twins. </b><br />
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<b>When we showed the twins the pictures and shared the information they were beaming from ear to ear! They loved seeing someone who actually looked like them! They no longer have any conscious memories of their life back then, but I could see how healing it was going to be for them to have this treasure of information. Seeing their first mother crying tears of joy when looking at their pictures. She LOVES them, she MISSES them, they were wanted. She made a selfless and impossible decision to give the girls a chance at a better life. </b><br />
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<b>A couple of days later we got word that our investigator was in Celia's family's village as he sent us pictures and a report. Her birth mother is very young and very poor living in a home made of branches and sticks. Once again the story of Celia's birth father being deceased proved to be untrue. He also disappeared once Celia was born. Her birth mother was so poor she was unable to feed herself enough to be able to produce milk to feed her baby. Celia was very malnourished when she came to the orphanage. She is now remarried and just recently had another baby, a boy.</b><br />
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<b>Celia is only 5 right now so this information is a bit much for her to be able to process. We told her about her baby brother in Ethiopia and her response was "I know, I remember him." Umm yeah chica you left the country before you were one year old and he was just born, so no, you don't remember him, but whatever! I feel good that as she gets older and does have questions that I will have some of the answers she is seeking.</b><br />
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<b>As I look at the pictures of these beautiful women on the other side of the world I realize how incredible it is to be able to love someone this much without ever even meeting them. I love these women. I feel like our family has grown. I never thought that we would have the opportunity to have any form of an open adoption when we adopted children from another country, but God has now opened that door. Through our investigator I can now send letters, more pictures and other items he thinks might be helpful for them. Mike and I are also looking into what it would take to pay for the twins' sisters to attend a good school. We are praying about what we do next now that we have all of this information. We feel a responsibility to help our new family members in any way we can. While I set out to do this for the girls, I have realized it was just as much for me. I needed to know that these mothers knew that their babies were well, loved and had a family that would never let them forget where they came from. I feel lighter somehow.</b><br />
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<b>We do plan on making a trip over there once the girls are older and when we go we will most definitely spend time with their first mothers. I can't wait to hold them, cry with them, laugh with them, pray with them, cook with them and thank them for the gift they gave us and our girls. These girls are going to do BIG things, and that began with their mothers making a very brave and scary choice of giving their children life.</b><br />
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<b>God's timing is pretty amazing. All of this happened just in time for mother's day. Best gift ever.</b>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994407733960330174.post-15001671276176268342015-03-26T21:02:00.004-07:002015-03-26T21:02:53.947-07:00Mother Knows Best...Well, I have finally caved. Mom, you win, I'm waving the white flag of surrender. Today I purchased real grown up anti-aging facial products. Yes, mom, of course I bought the Target knock off brand! Do you think I'm made of money?!<br />
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My mother has been preaching to me about proper skin care since I was in high school. I've always been pretty arrogant about my skin. I never had to go through any breakouts in high school and if I did get the stray pimple, my beloved freckles were standing guard ready to camouflage it. I have never been one to wear a lot (if any) make up, so I've never seen the point of washing my face before bed...I KNOW I KNOW! It's like a cardinal sin of womanhood, I get it.<br />
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Over the years I've considered diving in and paying more attention to my skin. I even made it a New Year's Resolution in 2014, but we all know how those turn out. It didn't last more than 2 weeks. I bought the fancy expensive organic stuff at the home party thinking THAT would get me to do it. Nope. I just used it in the mornings in the shower, even though I was told at aforementioned party that if I slept with a dirty face that I'd turn into a monster (or something to that effect).<br />
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My overconfidence is not helped by the fact that my mother and grandmother have AMAZING skin and do not look anywhere close to their ages. They've always been like that, so I've got good skin genes. Plus, I'm still basically 16 in my mind so I've got plenty of time to worry about that. (no?) Then you add on a chronic health condition and raising three young kiddos from hard places and suddenly good skin care isn't even in the realm of priorities.<br />
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After this last major surgery, and horrific endless recovery, I could see the stress of it on my face. What? It can't be! My 16 year old skin has finally started to crack under the pressure. I finally admitted to myself that the only reason that my Me-me and my mom have such great skin is because they've been regimented about taking care of it for decades.<br />
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If you know me at all you may have picked up on the fact that I could give a crap about what other people think of me (to a fault according to my mother ;) ) and I'm not one to care much what I look like. I've left the house before looking like a mess on many occasions because I just don't even think to check the mirror before walking out. My motivation you see is not vanity, it lies with my dear mother. You think she hounds me about this skin care thing now? Wait until I'm 40 or 60! Since my Me-me has lived so long I know my mother will too and her filter and self control about nagging me on such issues will only get worse. I can hear her now, "You know, if you had listened to me in your 30s and started using that Olay stuff I told you about your skin wouldn't looks so....rough." Or, "Honey, you really ought to have something done about those wrinkles, they're really aging you." She will forever haunt me about it ya'll!!<br />
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So, mark this down as a win for both of us I guess. I'm sure I'll thank her when I'm 60, and people don't think I'm too old to have 12 Ethiopian kids...LOL! Love you Mom!<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994407733960330174.post-76914440740153822742015-03-20T19:04:00.000-07:002015-03-20T19:22:23.276-07:00Unexpected Parenting WIN!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>If you follow me on Facebook you may remember this status I posted sometime just before Christmas:</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Tonight this scenario played out while Celia was napping:<br /> Caroline-
(counting her money from her wallet) "Charlotte, let's go downstairs.
Mom, you can't come since we are talking about something that's a
secret. It's for Christmas, but it's not a present, it's something in
an envelope."<br /> She then proceeds to come upstairs to ask me how to
spell "orphanage", 5 minutes later she comes back to ask how to spell
"charity" and finally a few minutes later she needed me to spell
"Africa". They asked if they could use the sharpies to decorate the
envelope.<br /> I know it's a surprise and I have "no idea" what they're
doing ;) but I have a feeling I'm going to be an incredibly proud
mama!!!</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b>Well </b><b>on Christmas morning we found this envelope under the tree:</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">(It says "Clean Water fo(r) all people")</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b>And inside was this note along with $30 in cash:</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">(Dear Mom and Dad, Caroline and Charlotte are sending money to charity to build a well in Africa.)</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Wow. I was blown away. What 9 year old thinks of this? How did we get here?</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It is true that they are from a rural area of Ethiopia where, when they first came to our family, they recounted to us how they remembered bathing, going to the bathroom and DRINKING water from the same river. When they first came to America, like nearly all Ethiopian kiddos who come here, they both had intestinal parasites that were remedied with a couple of rounds of antibiotics. Some families I know didn't have it quite that easy. Their life involved dealing with these parasites, and sometimes worms, for months after the child(ren) were home.</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Because of this realization, Mike and I looked into finding a reputable organization that was building clean water wells around the world, and particularly in Ethiopia. That's when we found out about <a href="http://www.charitywater.org/" target="_blank">charity:water.</a> </span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">In December of 2011 charity:water happened to be raising money to build a well in Tigray, Ethiopia. So, instead of going to a store and buying a gift for the adults in our families we decided to make donations in their name for this well. We did something similar the previous Christmas after watching a documentary on Netflix called "Making the Crooked Straight" about an American doctor, <a href="https://secure3.convio.net/jdc/site/Donation2;jsessionid=F1A7E68ECCAB2E74A755CA6402D9EEBB.app325a?idb=385165258&1521.donation=form1&DONATION_LEVEL_ID_SELECTED=1&df_id=1521&idb=0" target="_blank">Dr. Rick Hodes</a>, who practices in the capital city of Ethiopia treating people from all over the country who have tuberculosis of the spine. This is a curable condition that needs surgery. We were so moved by this documentary that we made donations instead of buying gifts and on Christmas morning we showed our families the documentary. We have continued this tradition every Christmas since, with choosing a different cause to support each year. </span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqfIuXsvFg3XQzH0H9VPCl1enORo9orle7_JshH5MeQ3lDNKtbvbpuDOoWUL_d49I2XIIVnhTmr21uRGJv4yKg0WS1rVXFzmn3hJ6aAtqKPBI9z4TdgmnhWLkKCQ1ebqQO17SgxQJgG2M/s1600/1472775_10152167456928273_1124585280_n(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqfIuXsvFg3XQzH0H9VPCl1enORo9orle7_JshH5MeQ3lDNKtbvbpuDOoWUL_d49I2XIIVnhTmr21uRGJv4yKg0WS1rVXFzmn3hJ6aAtqKPBI9z4TdgmnhWLkKCQ1ebqQO17SgxQJgG2M/s1600/1472775_10152167456928273_1124585280_n(1).jpg" height="148" width="200" /></a><b><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">For those of you thinking "You don't give your kids presents on Christmas????!!!" you can relax. Our children receive more than their fair share of gifts (mostly because of their grandmothers) but Mike and I have consciously tried to reduce the amount of gifts they get from us and Santa (who by the way I am super sick of, why does he get all of the credit for the gifts I BUY?! But that's a separate post). Partially because they all have sensory issues and get overwhelmed easily and partially because we want to be conscious of making sure that our kids know that this holiday isn't about gifts. </span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Another tradition we have started with our girls is that when they have a birthday party where they invite their friends, we allow them to choose a charity or cause to support then we ask for donations instead of gifts on the party invitation. I remember the first time we did this I got a few calls from panicked parents. "Can we just bring a small gift? My daughter doesn't understand that she can't take a gift to her friend at her party." No. Explain to your child that we are collecting money to send to people in Ethiopia (we donated to Feed the Children for their first party) so they can have enough food to eat. I realize these kids were 5, but why not start them early understanding that there are less fortunate people in the world? Each year the twins have raised around $100 for whatever cause they've chosen to support. This past fall was Celia's first experience with this and she decided to collect pet food and we took it to our local shelter.</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Again, not to worry for my poor little girls, they get plenty of presents from us and our families for their birthdays. My favorite thing that has come of us starting this tradition with our girls was the day they came home with a birthday party invitation. It was for one of Charlotte's classmates, and she was asking for food donations for a local food pantry instead of gifts. You know who it was from...that panicking mom I spoke with on the phone only a couple of months earlier! The twins were so excited that she was doing the same thing they did, and it was not lost on them that she got the idea from their party.</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So I guess to answer my own questions...they learned it from all of the little philanthropic efforts God has inspired us to make as a family. We've modeled to them that it means so much more to send your money to a good cause in someone's honor than to spend money on something at a store. We are blessed with a little extra spending money so if there's something little I'd like for myself, I can usually buy it for myself. For the majority of people around the world "spending money" or "blow money" is an unknown luxury. I am so glad that my children are soaking in this concept of helping others. I know this is planting the seeds for what GREAT things God has in store for them in the future!</span></b></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994407733960330174.post-18237427163462826032015-03-17T18:08:00.001-07:002015-03-17T18:08:39.868-07:00Caroline's 65 Year Old Smoker Soul<b>If you have spent more than five minutes with Caroline, then you've heard me apologize for her attitude by explaining that she has the soul of a 65 year old smoker. I have said this since day one with her. I guess you could say there's something about her that is an "old soul".</b><br />
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<b>When we first moved to PA, our new cable package included the <a href="http://www.mylifetime.com/movies/lifetime-movie-network" target="_blank">Lifetime Movie Network</a>, which was new to us. On this channel I stumbled upon a show called <a href="http://www.mylifetime.com/movies/ghost-inside-my-child" target="_blank">Ghost Inside My Child</a>.</b> <b>The show interviews parents of children who have memories and knowledge from another lifetime, including how they died when they were a grown up before. Crazy, right?! It could all be scripted, who knows, but it is pretty fascinating and it got me thinking about Caroline. </b><br />
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<b> Here are the top ten reasons I believe Caroline has the soul of a 65 year old smoker:</b><br />
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<b>1. Ever since day 1 she has had a scratchy smoker's voice. It has become less evident as she's grown older and polished her English, but it's still there.</b><br />
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<b>2. Her attitude...about everything. She has this bitter old woman sense about her, mad at the world and bitter about everything. She always manages to be disappointed about everything. I could say we were having ice cream and donuts for dinner and she'd still manage to let out a sigh and walk away in her Eeyore manner.</b><br />
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<b>3. Her sass and sense of humor. She's straight up HILARIOUS. Her sense of humor is way more mature than her age. It makes it very hard to keep a straight face when she says something that's not quite appropriate for a 9 year old to say, but it's super funny. She is super sassy and acts as if she invented the eye roll.</b><br />
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<b>4. One time right before Halloween when she was only 5, my mother gave the girls a bag of goodies for them to open up. Inside was a small rectangular box of Malley's chocolates wrapped up in pretty paper. She picked up the box, shook it next to her ear and said "Granny, why you get me some smokes?" then proceeded to tap the box on the palm of her hand a few times. We all just stood there with our jaws on the ground. Who says "smokes" anymore? No one in our family even smokes. This was the first specific incident when I knew there was some serious history wth this girl.</b><br />
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<b>5. In our hometown there is this super cool 50s type hot dog diner called <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Dans-Dogs-A-Hot-Dog-Eatery/116078575081207" target="_blank">Dan's Dogs. </a>We would go there frequently as a family. All over the walls are pictures of celebrities and memorabilia from the 50s and 60s. The first time we went there Caroline pointed to a picture of Elvis and asked who it was. Over the years, every time we've gone she has asked questions about Elvis and found a book they have about him at the restaurant to read while we wait for our food. </b><br />
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<b>6. Last year for the Fourth of July we went to visit some family in Toledo. As we were all sitting around outside eating, my father pipes up and says "Hey, do you guys want to hear a funny story?" Now this was a rare occurrence because my dad is a pretty quiet guy and is usually one to sit back and listen to other people talk, so all of our ears perked up. This has got to be a good story for him to want to share, right?</b> <b>So, he starts telling about</b> <b>a time where he left one of his three cell phones on the top of his car, started to drive off onto the highway and the phone flew off of the roof of the car.</b> <b>Before he was even finished with what he thought was a hilarious story, Caroline rolls her eyes and loudly says "Good grief Gramps, great story." very sarcastically. Who even says good grief anymore??? No one in her world, I can tell you that for sure.</b><br />
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<b>7. This child is OBSESSED with the TV.</b> <b>It literally does not matter what is on the TV (commercials and all) her eyes are glued to it. We here in the Bratt household refer to this as her TV comma. At first I just figured "hey, the kid has lived in a mud hut for the past 4 years so she's never seen anything like this" but it never ever wore off or has lost its intensity. It just got me thinking that if her "old soul" is from the 50s or 60s, then TV would have been a very new and fascinating thing.</b><br />
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<b>8. I'd say ever since she was 5 or 6 she would always point out to me when there was a handsome guy on a magazine cover in the grocery store, or on TV. She was always on point too. She always noticed, while Charlotte never did, nor did she care. Caroline has a thing about peoples' eyes. She's always pointing out if people have pretty eyes, even in person she'll say "Hey mom, did you see that man's eyes? They were so pretty."</b> <b>Just not typical for a 5 year old.</b><br />
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<b>9. She has always been very difficult to parent. She's just so over being a kid and having to listen to other peoples' rules. She has this air about her that an adult would have if their parent was telling them what to do. I'm pretty sure at the age of nine she thinks she could go out, get a job and live on her own. I'm not 100% certain she's wrong either! Girl's got tenacity! </b><br />
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<b>10. This story: We went to visit my friend Mary's
campground one fall day and came away with one of my
favorite stories of all time with Caroline. She
had to go to the bathroom while we were there so Mary had her go into
her parents' house to use the bathroom. Caroline has never met Mary's
mom before. She walks through the kitchen to get to the bathroom and
sees some junk <span class="text_exposed_show">food laying out like
pop-tarts, chips, etc. She turns and looks at Mary's mom and says
"Someone in this house is about to get some diabetes." I didn't even
know she knew the word diabetes, let alone know how to use it properly!
Half of the words in her vocabulary she can't pronounce properly, but
diabetes she's got down cold!</span></b><br />
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<b><span class="text_exposed_show"> Now, before you get all "Well, aren't you a Christian? How can you reconcile the concept of reincarnation with your faith?" I don't know!! It's just not that serious, ok?! All I know is that the "child" I live with and love, does not act like a child a lot of the time. It's mysterious, awesome and frustrating all at the same time. One day I'll get to ask God what was up with that, but until then I'm just enjoying the ride. </span></b>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994407733960330174.post-34277462933081404012015-03-06T13:21:00.003-08:002015-03-06T13:21:52.397-08:00Financial Planning According to a Pair of 6 Year Olds!<b>I came across this gem the other day and had to share it with all of you. The girls are now 9 and got a kick out of watching this the other day. I'm so glad they have life all figured out. (LOL)</b><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994407733960330174.post-62539411511105766652014-11-17T21:16:00.000-08:002014-11-17T21:17:20.639-08:00Celia... One Year Later<b>Today marks one full year since the day we first met Celia in a courthouse in Ohio. She was so sweet and quiet, in fact she didn't speak at all for about 2 hours. Part of this I'm sure was a combination of shock, and awe, nerves, confusion and wonderment, but we had also been told by her first family that she was a very quiet child. We didn't hear a word out of her until after we left the parking lot of the courthouse and asked her if she wanted to go to McDonald's for lunch.</b><br />
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<b> What we found out later was that she had not been prepped AT ALL for what was about to happen to her. I had sent pictures of our house, cats, the twins and us for her to see, none of which had been shown to her. All she was told was that she was going to go live with another family. That's it. We also realized that in her first family the rules must have been pretty stringent (military family) because she associated being a "good girl" with being quiet. All the time.</b><br />
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<b> Oh what a difference a year has made. Quiet would be the last word in the galaxy one would use to describe this child. She learned pretty quickly that in our family we do loud, we do mistakes, we do emotional, and all of it is ok. Do I miss that sweet, quiet little lady at times...YOU BET...but I know now that she wasn't allowed to be her true self in her previous placement. I feel good about the fact that she has bloomed with us.</b><br />
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<b>In the beginning the twins adored their little sister and wanted to help her with everything. They doted on her and were so sweet. Yeah that's LONG gone! As it should be I suppose. They are real siblings now, they fight and argue over everything and the older two take any opportunity to boss little one around. Although I have an older half-sister, we did not have the pleasure of growing up together, so the drama of sisterly interactions is all new to me. With my little brother it was totally different, always physical, rough and tumble, no drama. With sisters, from the intel I've gathered, it's all of the above PLUS a huge dose of manipulation and drama. Deep breaths.</b><br />
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<b>I can see both sides of their stories. Little sisters are annoying. In fact, I told Caroline she could keep a journal of times that she wants to punch Celia in the face (along with how many punches each infraction is worth of course) and once Celia turns 18 she can go for it. I don't feel at all guilty about this seeing as Caroline can't keep track of anything for longer than 23 minutes so the odds that she's maintain and know the whereabouts of such a journal are astronomical. Listen folks, don't judge, if we didn't laugh over here, we'd be crying...a lot.</b><br />
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<b>So, yes, Celia has bloomed into what I can only surmise to be a more true version of herself. That being said, it's NOT all butterflies and rainbows over here. She is still hurting. She is angry, and I can't blame her. Although she just turned 5 years old, emotionally she is functioning more on the level of a 2 year old. I think this is because she wasn't allowed or able to process the raw emotions that come with being adopted in the first place, as well as just being a pain the a$$ toddler in her previous family. Now add onto all of that a tremendous, rational, fear of abandonment, and you've got a very emotional little girl.</b><br />
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<b>Her attachment to me began immediately upon meeting her in the courthouse. She came and sat in my lap right away when I motioned to her to see if she'd want to. We sat for a while while I showed her all of the pictures I had hoped he had already seen of her new sisters, home and cats. It seemed to me that she had been craving a motherly connection for years and since her first adoptive mom wasn't able to bond with her, she just had not had that in her life for the past 3 years.</b><br />
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<b>Her attachment to Mike is still a work in progress. You see, she adored her first adoptive father and he adored her. He was devastated in the courtroom, while mom had no affect, zero, it was eerie. I promise to write more about her disruption story soon which will give you a little better picture of the background here. Because she felt so connected with this former father, you can tell she struggles with the question "if I let this new dad into my heart, am I betraying the old one?". Of course most of her anger and feelings of betraying are directed at this old dad as well, who isn't around to take it, so Mike, the poor unfortunate soul, becomes the target of all of it. She's come a long way in a year though and heart healing takes time.</b><br />
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<b>I'm going to keep it very real here folks. There have been many a day that the twins have finally started grasping the concept of sleeping in and Celia's up at the crack of dawn and I ask myself "Why did we do this? Things with the twins were JUST started to get a bit easier! Why'd we have to rock the boat?!" Also, although I'm only 33 years old, my soul is much older. I wasn't cut out to do this toddler thing. Ain't nobody got time for that. I prefer to be around those who are able to think rationally.</b><br />
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<b>Of course I wouldn't change it for the world. God has taken us on such a crazy roller coaster the past year. It has taught us so much about listening to Him and His will and plans for our lives, even when it doesn't seem to make any sense to anyone else. I can see this little girl's heart healing right before my eyes and it's all God's doing. Beauty from ashes.</b><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994407733960330174.post-65750039579963689362014-09-04T12:56:00.001-07:002014-09-04T12:56:50.636-07:00Ignorance...At the Pediatrician's Office?!<b>Let me start by saying that moving across state lines with children who are on ADHD medication is a nightmare. You have to have a paper script to take to the pharmacy because they are all controlled substances, so that also means you can't take a paper script from your Ohio doctor to a pharmacy in PA to get it filled. UGH. So, that being said, we had been anticipating this appointment today with our new pediatrician so we could finally establish a doctor who could give us the prescriptions my girls need.</b><br />
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<b>I also want to point out that I have A LOT of experience with doctors and I know that a lot of the best doctors have a pretty crappy bed side manner. I've come to accept that, however, I would think pediatricians would be the exception to the rule. </b><b>The doctor we saw today got an earful from Caroline so I don't think she'll ever make this same mistake again. </b><br />
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<b>She was entering in all of the information about Caroline and her health history. She says "I know since she was adopted we will not have any family health history, but I want to get the names of all of the members of your family into the computer." I gave her my name and Mike's name. She then asked if Caroline had any siblings. I responded, "She has a bio twin named Charlotte, and.." she interrupts me and says "Oh, ok so she counts as a real one."</b><br />
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<b>OH. NO. SHE. DIDN'T.</b><br />
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<b>To which Caroline responded, "What? So what does that make my other sister? Is she imaginary? Is she fake? No. She's my REAL sister too!"</b><br />
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<b>PROUD MAMA MOMENT. It was the best response ever, because there's no way an adult could have gotten away with that sassy response, but oh from the mouths of babes!</b><br />
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<b>"Of course she's real, you know what I mean, you just don't share genes." was her response.</b><br />
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<b>I awaited Caroline's response, thinking for sure she'd argue that of course, none of them share "jeans" because they all wear different sizes, but, alas, she was able to contain herself for once.</b><br />
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<b>I used this as an opportunity for grace, but I was pretty shocked that a pediatrician didn't know better and wasn't educated on the proper terminology. I find it hard to believe that my family is the first adoptive family that has come through that office. It's one thing to say that in front of the adult, but it was not ok to say that in front of my child. Luckily we had JUST had a conversation about this because of an interaction Caroline had with a boy from our neighborhood last week (<a href="http://ourblessedhotmess.blogspot.com/2014/09/a-shelter-meow.html" target="_blank">You can read that funny story here</a>) so she had the perfect tools to respond appropriately. I hope Caroline's candid response made this doctor realize that she needs to choose her words more carefully next time.</b><br />
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<b>The Bratts are in town now, rural southeastern PA, and we're going to make a serious impression!</b>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994407733960330174.post-82355562046139000742014-09-01T15:57:00.001-07:002014-09-01T15:57:43.495-07:00A SHELTER???? MEOW!<b>Ever since our twins joined our family back in 2010 we had lived in Medina, OH. Mike and I both grew up in this small Cleveland suburb, so we knew a lot of people around town. Anyone I didn't know personally was accosted with adorable photographs if they went shopping at the local greenhouse and farm where my mother worked. Sometimes people would come up to us on the street and say, "Hey, aren't you Charlotte & Caroline?" even though I had never seen said person before in my life. That could've been the result of the girls going to every VBS in town for two summers straight. Don't judge, using Jesus as free respite isn't again the rules, we talked, He's cool with it.</b><br />
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<b>This being said, the girls were never really approached with very many questions about their adoption. Add in the fact that they were still young enough that kids didn't notice racial differences and that every November (Adoption Awareness Month) I have gone into their classrooms to share a book about adoption and answer all of the children's questions about it, there hadn't been much opportunity or need for them to stand on their own two feet and answer the tough questions alone.</b><br />
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<b>Then we moved. We moved to PA, outside of Philadelphia, to a town and a school even whiter and more rural than the one we came from. The questions began before school even started. This is the conversation I walked outside to in my backyard:</b><br />
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<b>"A SHELTER???? You mean an orphanage? Yes, I used to live in an orphanage in Africa, NOT in a shelter. What do you think I am? A cat? MEOW!!!" I stood back trying not to wet my pants. I wanted to see where this was going to go next. </b><br />
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<b>The boy and Caroline both laughed. Then he said "So your real mom just left you there?" Caroline responded with an annoyed tone, clearly wanting to get back to the game they were just in the middle of, "Yeah, sure. Let's play."</b><br />
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<b>I swooped and and made some politically correct statement that their birth mother was too poor to take care of them so she made the loving choice to allow another family to take care of them. Then I came inside. I thought about what I needed to say as a follow up to this interaction.</b><br />
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<b>Once she came inside for the night I told her how proud I was of her. I liked how she made it silly so that he didn't feel dumb. It is likely that she is the first adopted child he has ever met and he was using the vocabulary that he was familiar with when it comes to adoption, albeit pet adoption. She has such great comedic timing that I knew the humorous approach would be her strength. I then gave her suggestions about how to better answer his question about her "real mom". "Is my mom imaginary? I'm pretty sure she's real. I think you mean by birth mom." These were my suggestions on how to handle it in a humorous way while still educating him on the correct vocabulary. </b><br />
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<b>We then talked about how much of her story she wants to share. I reminded her that her story is private and it is nobody's business how she came to be adopted. She can share what she feels comfortable with, and we went through a few different levels of sharing information. I want to empower my girls. I don't want there to be any shame with their stories, and one day I'd love for them to be able to use their story to share God with others by telling them how He has worked in their lives. Baby steps.</b><br />
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<b>In the meantime we will continue to keep an open dialogue about how to handle the tough questions. And don't worry, if the stories are funny, you'll be sure to hear all about it!</b>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994407733960330174.post-34897124822176048352014-08-14T21:27:00.000-07:002014-08-15T10:05:09.538-07:00Breaking Out of Our Bubble<b>We live cooshy lives here in America. The reality of this has slapped me in the face this past week and it made me very uncomfortable.</b><br />
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<b>The past few days social media has been flooded with articles, images and posts about the suicide of our beloved actor Robin Williams. We all loved him, we all grew up with him and of course we are all saddened by his death. I will be the first in line to advocate for those with mental health issues. My children are plagued with these issues and will likely be for the rest of their lives. I am a card carrying member of NAMI (the National Alliance on Mental Health) and have even attended the training to become and instructor for their classes to educate parents of children with mental health challenges.</b><br />
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<b>HOWEVER, it disturbs me how caught up our nation has become with this death this week, especially given the other events that are going on around the world. </b><br />
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<b>There are CHILDREN BEING BEHEADED in Iraq by terrorists. </b><br />
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<b>Children are dying in orphanages all over the world, some who have families ready to adopt them and bring them home, but are unable to because of governmental red tape.</b></div>
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<b>Thousands are suffering and dying in Western Africa from the Ebola epidemic. </b><br />
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<b>Countries are at war with one another, and as is with war, innocent civilians are dying in the crossfire. </b><br />
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<b>Hundreds of Nigerian girls have been missing for months now who were kidnapped from their school by terrorists, and are certainly facing unimaginable atrocities. </b><br />
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<b>I know, it is easier to just bury our heads in the sand and push these horrific happenings out of our minds. How in the world could we sleep at night if we didn't? We all just go on with our privileged lives as if all is well. Can you imagine what the victims of the above mentioned cruelties would think if they saw how much of our media in the US has been devoted to the death of a famous movie star? Talk about first world problems! </b><br />
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<b>I know it's so incredibly overwhelming to think about these horrific things, I mean what can we even do about it anyways? We can pray. We can get down on our knees and intentionally pray for these people all over the world who are suffering at the hands of evil and illness. Ask God what He wants YOU to do. It may mean donating monetarily to an organization that is working directly with those affected, it may mean organizing a fundraiser, you may feel led to write/call/email your government representative to express your passion and concern over these issues or you may feel called to take more specific actions. We need to "check ourselves before we wreck ourselves", meaning we need to maintain perspective. We can't keep living in our American bubble. All of these things going on in "someone else's backyard" will eventually directly affect all of us. It's important. All of God's people are important, not just the famous ones.</b><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994407733960330174.post-39874203937627644752014-07-23T21:43:00.000-07:002014-08-15T10:09:46.052-07:00The Loss of an Unlikely Best Friend<b>Two days ago our neighbor died suddenly of a heart attack. He was 67. He was also one of my children's very best friends. They would rather go to his house to hang out than to try and play with any of the neighborhood kids. </b><br />
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<b>I have known Jim since I was 6 years old and lived in this house with my grandparents. His kids were a little older than I was, but their family has always been in my life since then. As it turns out, my husband has always known their family as well since they were very involved in Boy Scouts. It has been such a privilege for my kids to get to know them as well. </b><br />
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<b>Looking at Jim you wouldn't guess that small children would want to hang out with him. He was gruff, always had a cigarette in his mouth, his hands were always worn and filthy from the project he was working on at the time and he was physically a large man. My kids ADORED him. Anytime they'd go over to his house on their bikes they would have a million questions about what he was working on. He always answered their questions, sometimes teaching them how to do it themselves. If the girls needed anything on their bike fixed, they wouldn't even bother telling Mike or I about it, they would just go straight over to Jim's house for him to fix it. Bikes were one of his many areas of expertise. My kids went so far as to knock on their door to see if Jim was home if he wasn't outside. I had to explain to them that they needed to give Jim and Joyce their space and that they could only "play" with them if they were already outside. Jim has a pool and he and Joyce are always inviting the girls over to swim anytime they want to. </b><br />
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<b>When the twins first came to our family, and had limited English, the neighbor's names were in the first 100 words the girls obtained. The best part was that they combined their names and called them JimsJoyce. It was so sweet and now upon reflection, quite appropriate. What a blessing to have such a beautiful example of a loving couple who, after 44 years of marriage, were still best friends and loved being together. Jim was also a beautiful lesson for my girls that you cannot judge someone based on what they look like.</b><br />
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<b>As I said before, Jim passed away 2 days ago. When I told the girls the news, I could tell that they couldn't really process it. They seemed to kind of sluff it off. Their reaction was a bit concerning to me. I knew how much they cared about him. Charlotte and I went to visit his wife today and for Charlotte, seeing how her heart was so broken really made it more real. Caroline couldn't bring herself to even go over. </b><br />
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<b>At bedtime tonight the twins took turns coming downstairs telling me they couldn't sleep. I got annoyed. I just wanted to sit and spend some time with Mike. I went upstairs to tuck them each back in and Caroline came clean. She couldn't sleep because she was sad about Jim and it was reminding her of when <a href="http://ourblessedhotmess.blogspot.com/2013/12/trauma-is-tricky-thing.html" target="_blank">Brutus died</a>. She broke down. I held her as she cried. I reminded her of how much Jim loved Brutus, a fact I had forgotten until tonight. When Brutus was a kitten, Jim would come over just to see him and it was quite a site to see such a big, tough guy holding such a tiny little kitten. I remember how heartbroken he was when he found out about what happened to Brutus. I'm sure he is snuggling with that ornery little kitten up in heaven! I then came downstairs to dig through the dozens of boxes packed for our impending move trying to find the stuffed moose we named Brutus so Caroline could snuggle with him. Of course Brutus the Moose was in one of the very first boxes we packed and was therefore on the BOTTOM of the pile! It took me 30 minutes and I was sweating by the time I dug that thing out, but if than dang moose was going to help her sleep, then you better believe I was going to find it. That's true love people!!</b><br />
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<b>I then went into Charlotte's room to re-tuck her into bed. By this time it's 10:30pm...they went to bed at 8:45pm. I asked her if she was ok and she told me she was sad about Jim. I held her as we both cried for the next 15 minutes. She misses him. After we cried I reminded her of his love for Brutus and we were able to smile remembering how funny it looked when he held that tiny kitten and how he would bring Brutus back home after the many times he would make a daring escape out of any open door so he could have an adventure.</b><br />
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<b>None of us want our children to experience pain of any kind, but in real life any relationship has its risks of resulting in pain. I wouldn't change their relationship with Jim just to spare them of this pain. Their relationship with this man was such a blessing. They learned so many life lessons knowing and loving him. Having a relationship with God helps makes these times more bearable because we know we will all see Jim again one day in heaven. I know he will be up there watching over my girls in the same way he'll be watching over his own grandchildren.</b>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994407733960330174.post-17697475101809514302014-07-02T22:17:00.003-07:002014-08-15T10:09:58.273-07:00Adoption-Our Plan A<b>I once had a fellow adoptive parent make an off hand comment to me that went something along these lines: "We all know that adoption wasn't our first choice." Ouch.</b><br />
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<b>I thank God quite frequently that Mike and I are in the minority of adoptive parents who have not experienced the loss of infertility. In fact, I have yet to meet another family who was able to dodge this painful experience. That's right folks, we never tried to get pregnant. GASP!</b><br />
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<b>This decision began before we even were married. Ever since I was 12, when I found out that my 2 aunts (technically my 2nd cousins) were adopted back in the 60s, I remember thinking how interesting that was. Of course at the age of 12, I was unable to understand the many layers of emotion involved with all parties of adoption, I just thought it was "cool". So before we were married I told Mike that I had a strong interest in adopting at some point. We figured that maybe we would have a biological child as well as adopt, however I NEVER felt the desire to ever be pregnant. Like never. I don't know if it was because of all of my previous health issues, or because I knew the health risk to myself and a baby if I were to be pregnant, but God took any natural desire to procreate right out of me! I felt like such a weirdo though because I knew in my heart that God's purpose for me on Earth was to be a mom and yet I had no desire to birth one! </b><br />
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<b>In 2009, Mike's dad was diagnosed with <a href="http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/huntingtons-disease/basics/definition/con-20030685" target="_blank">Huntington's Disease</a>. We were told that Mike had a 50% chance of carrying the gene and therefore if we did have biological children, there would be a 50% chance of passing it on to them. Along with this, Mike's mom and I both have <a href="http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/crohns-disease/basics/definition/con-20032061" target="_blank">Crohn's Disease</a>. Since that is on both sides there was also a 30% chance that we would pass that onto our child as well. This was enough of a sign from God that He did not have biological kids in our plan and we were more than fine with that. I was honestly relieved. Now we could begin the journey of growing our family!</b><br />
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<b>I have so many friends whose lives have taken different routes to get to their adoptions, there isn't one cookie cutter story. Adoptive families all form so very differently. Yes, some do deal with infertility, some have a mix of bio kids and adopted kids, some do a kinship adoption along with so many other examples. Please keep this in mind and do me a favor:</b><br />
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<b>DO NOT say to an adoptive mom "Oh, now you will probably get pregnant!". I had so many well meaning people say this to me and my response was, "Ha! I sure hope not!" Yes, this happens to some couples, yes this may be the hopes of some womens' hearts, but do not assume that is the case!</b><br />
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<b>DO NOT assume that adoption was a family's "second choice" or "Plan B". For some couples this may be the case, but even if it is, that is none of your business. Please just share in their joy and love on them.</b><br />
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DO NOT get the impression that any adoptive parent is adopting in order to "rescue" or "save" a child. None of us are trying to save anyone. We simply want children and this happens to be the path God has chosen for us. We aren't any better than anyone else, nor do we ever feel like we are. We are just barely hanging on, just like every other parent!<br />
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Don't make assumptions, it's a good general rule of thumb in life really! It is always safe to say to ANY family, "Wow, God has really blessed you!". Period.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994407733960330174.post-16459132587367342762014-02-20T20:01:00.002-08:002014-08-15T10:10:06.882-07:00Eight--the Elusive Milestone Achieved!<b>We adopted our twins when they were 4 years old. We were the fourth caregivers they had had in their short lives. They had been through abuse, neglect, abandonment, hunger, violence and fear that I can't even imagine...I don't even want to. They were, understandably, a mess. A HOT MESS. Those who knew us best back then know that we rarely left the house for that first year. We were in full on crisis mode all the time.</b><br />
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<b>Every book we read, and every professional we talked to, told us that it would take at least 4 years until we could expect them to have the same issues that their peers have, age appropriate issues. It would take them as many years as they lived away from us to learn to trust us and to feel secure. Back then this news left us feeling so overwhelmed. Another 4 years of THIS. How in the world would we survive? How would they survive? I had a lot of conversations with God about how I think he had made a mistake. I couldn't DO this. It was TOO HARD! There wasn't really a light at the end of the tunnel.</b><br />
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<b>If you have parented a typical four year old, you may be thinking "What are you complaining about? You don't even have to deal with the terrible twos, or the toddler years!". Well, guess what? Our children didn't have the opportunity to be mischievous toddlers. At that age they were in survival mode. They didn't have toys, or people to throw tantrums to. They had no one. So that meant that, even though they were 4 chronologically, they very distinctively went through the terrible twos/threes during the first 6 months of being with us. Imagine your toddler, throwing fits, trying to be independent, but having NO WAY to communicate with them. Yeah, that's where we were!</b><br />
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<b>Don't get me wrong, it wasn't all bad. Despite the language barrier, we had dance parties, we played with each others hair, even Mike's, and we blew bubbles. These things need no language. They also picked up English at a warp speed.</b><br />
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But even an English speaking four year old doesn't have the words to express the anger, rage, sadness, grief and fear that these girls were experiencing. This led to meltdowns that would last an hour sometimes. Many times they would need to be restrained in order to keep them, and the rest of us, safe. I never knew a preschooler could be so strong or so angry. It was scary.<br />
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<br />
We decided to use this restraint time as an opportunity for bonding. We were so physically close to them while we were holding them that we used this time to sing to them, express to them that everything was going to be ok, and to reassure them that NO MATTER WHAT they did, we were not going to get rid of them. It's not that they thought we might give them away, they were certain of it, and they were determined that they were going to be the ones in charge of that. They were going to be bad enough that we would quit on them. <b>They picked the wrong family. We don't quit, we're too stubborn for that.</b><br />
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<br />
Another misconception is that if you adopt a four year old, or any older child, you get out of all of those sleepless nights. WRONG! Children from hard places tend to have serious issues with sleeping/dark. One of our girls was terrified of the dark, while the other would have scary night terrors that would wake me from a dead sleep.<br />
<br />
We were exhausted and the thought of keeping this up for the next FOUR YEARS was inconceivable! Luckily for us, God threw us a bone and we were at a point of near normalcy about two and a half years in! Near normalcy is all we are going to achieve as there are so many lasting effects of the crap they've been through, and well, our family is nowhere near what anyone would consider normal anyhow :)<br />
<br />
So we made it, they are <b>eight</b>! They are alive and we are alive! Not only that but we were <strike>crazy</strike> brave enough to try this again. <b>God has used the last 4 years to draw both Mike and me so much closer to Him. We saw how much we needed Him. He revealed His plans for us so clearly that they could not be denied, and we learned to trust and follow Him.</b> It has been an amazingly wild ride and I can't wait to see where we are in another four years!<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994407733960330174.post-16822179148473083662014-01-29T19:58:00.000-08:002014-08-15T10:10:18.089-07:00Holland vs. Italy: the tale of parenting a special needs child<h2 align="CENTER">
WELCOME TO HOLLAND</h2>
<div align="CENTER">
<b>by</b><br />
<b>Emily Perl Kingsley</b></div>
<b>
<br />
"I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child
with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that
unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel.</b><br />
<b>It's
like this......When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous
vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your
wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in
Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very
exciting.
</b><br />
<b> After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack
your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The
stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."</b><br />
<b>"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for
Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to
Italy."</b><br />
<b>But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.</b><br />
<b>The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible,
disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's
just a different place.</b><br />
<b>So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a
whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you
would never have met.</b><br />
<b>It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less
flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch
your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland
has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.</b><br />
<b>But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and
they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for
the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed
to go. That's what I had planned." </b><br />
<b>And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.</b><br />
<b>But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get
to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very
lovely things ... about Holland."</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Mike and I went to the first night of a six week seminar for parents who have children with emotional, behavioral and/or mental illness issues. It is put on by<a href="http://www.nami.org/" target="_blank"> NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness)</a>. This story was the first thing that was shared. It struck me in a way I didn't expect.<br />
<br />
While listening to this, I heard it from the perspective of the first adoptive parents of children who have gone through a disruption. They had an idea of what international adoption would look like, feel like and be like. As it turned out, the true story is that it isn't all a "dream come true". It's hard. Parenting a child from a hard place is very hard. It's exhausting with little to no pay off on your end as the parent. I'm lucky that my children all have very minor attachment issues and are able to form a loving relationship with me, but a lot of adoptive parents are not so lucky.<br />
<br />
The two disruption situations we have been through were vastly different. The one commonality is that both families also had biological children in the home. This is not something that I can relate to, since we chose not to have any bio kids in our family, but I have often wondered if adoptive parents who already have bio kids when they adopt expect the feelings they have for their bio kids to be exactly the same for their adopted child. Maybe that's their Italy. I'm not saying that that scenario isn't possible, but it has to be different.<br />
<br />
A bio kid comes out of the womb knowing no one but you. They need you, they learn unconditional love from you. They are protected by you. When you adopt a child, especially when it's not a newborn, you receive that child along with all of their trauma. You have to do the work to bond to that child. It is not automatic. It's not easy. You have to learn to love one another. Our children spend a lot of intentional time on our laps, we fed them at the dinner table when they were 4 & 5 years old. We look for any kind of interaction we can in order to mimic the kind of bonding that a newborn and a mother would share.<br />
<br />
It takes a very long time, it doesn't always work and it can be heartbreaking. If you have bio kids as well I can understand how this would put so much stress on your relationships with each of them as well as stress on the family as a whole. This is why I can empathize with families who choose to disrupt. Even though I do not understand it in most instances, I always try not to judge them. That has to be one of the hardest decisions of someone's life. I have to assume that they would only go forward with the disruption if they believed in their heart that it was in the best interest of the child. This is where my faith in God comes in. God has plans for all of our lives, and sometimes those plans are messy, but if we trust Him and listen to Him the end result will be a blessing that we could have ever imagined. <br />
<br />
Maybe most people like Italy. It's pretty there, the food is decadent, it's gorgeous and the weather is great. I happen to love Holland. I have always lived a bit off of the beaten path and had to be the one swimming upstream, against the current. Most people can have Italy. I'll hang out in Holland, where it may be messy, but it's a beautiful mess.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994407733960330174.post-21971364657001835312014-01-24T19:32:00.001-08:002015-06-01T18:24:01.294-07:00Jazzercize...not for the faint of heart<b>I went to Jazzercize tonight for the very first time. Here are my observations.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>First of all, my mom went to Jazzercize, like 20 years ago. I remember being in the childcare with my buddy Elizabeth. Am I old enough to go to Jazzercize? That's for moms, right? I mean, I know I'm technically a mom, but I'm not a MOM! I know that I am 32 years old physically, but I still consider my mental age to be that of a 16 year old, and I think I always will. Also, I danced my entire life, there is no way this is going to be challenging enough for me.</b><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>This was my expectation of Jazzercise</b></i></div>
<br />
<b>Roxanne kicked my butt tonight. Roxanne, who was at least 10 years older than me, kicked my butt. During the first song, I got cocky. "I knew it", I thought, "this is too easy." "A lot of these women are older than me, and there's no way that if they can do this that it will challenge me." Well, those ladies showed me. By the end of the 2nd song I needed a drink and was starting to sweat. By the end of the 3rd song I was short of breath and finding it hard to do it all full out.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>I'll tell you who wasn't having a hard time...those older ladies in front of me!! Damn! They hardly ever even stopped for a drink, and here I am trying to make it through an entire song before I run to get a drink and steal away a 5 second break, while pretending that I don't need a break. I'm young, I shouldn't need a break!</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Then we started using weights. I chose my weights at the beginning of the session and I chose 5lb weights. I knew within the first 5 seconds that 5lbs was too much, but it wasn't too much for those little ladies in front of me. So, you better believe that I toughed it out. I may not be able to even grasp a pencil tomorrow, but I toughed it out.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>I found myself checking the clock to see how much longer this would go on, how much longer would I have to pretend that I was young and in shape. I couldn't keep the ruse up much longer. I wanted to punch Roxanne. She was making it look so easy, hardly even sweating, and having fun!</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>So folks, when I am in bed all day tomorrow because I can't walk, just remember that Jazzercize is no joke. It's a hard work out, a fun work out, but it's hard! I want to give mad props to all of the wonderful women in my life who swear by it and I want to apologize for my preconceived notions.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>I will go back, just as soon as I can walk.</b>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994407733960330174.post-40838208505348471272014-01-24T19:13:00.000-08:002014-08-15T10:11:13.637-07:00Praising God for a Splinter and Busted Knee<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>We have had 2 experiences in the last 2 weeks that have been
true blessings in disguise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I’m sure you would be rejoicing and praising God for a trip
to the ER and a splinter lodged in your child’s leg…right? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stay with me here.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Only about a month after being home with us, Celia was at my
mother in law’s house with us and thought it looked like fun to wrap her legs
around Grammy’s wood banister and swing around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This stunt resulted in a big splinter in her thigh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The main problem with this was that she DID
NOT trust us enough to let us remove it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was told that if we let her soak in a hot tub, put baking soda on it,
(along with many other tips) it would work itself out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t afford to traumatize her in this
crucial stage of our bonding, so against my better judgment, I left it in.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>You have probably caught on by now that our lives are
crazy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two weeks passed and I had
forgotten about that splinter, she only brought it up after those 2 weeks had
passed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now it hurt and the skin had
healed over top of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>CRAP!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went online and searched for a solution
that wouldn’t involve breaking the skin, but it wasn’t happening. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to weigh my
options.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only time we had taken her
to the doctor she was terrified.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
clear that a visit to the doctor’s office was some kind of a trigger for her,
so that was out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t risk her
fears of the doctor’s office being verified.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I put on my big girl panties, sat her on the kitchen table, put some
orajel on the spot and went to work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Mike sat next to her on one side with her sisters both on the other
side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not once did we have to hold her
down, she trusted me!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I kept taking
breaks and kissing her and trying to calm her fears and tears with my
words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I finally made progress and
pulled out the biggest splinter I had ever seen in my life!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKgVa9TiX2o0EMZ4u1tDM0cbpxz65hQniDOq9F7IMfmRaFYxWYGLYes-GbPnsUurpEjVxv-nJ7J6-KTrMRBDyEXafOsNpcSuOvCKxHtY4XLawHcG9zAxAa4223jmoa7K-IEbfWUzd4-wk/s1600/splinter+tweezer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKgVa9TiX2o0EMZ4u1tDM0cbpxz65hQniDOq9F7IMfmRaFYxWYGLYes-GbPnsUurpEjVxv-nJ7J6-KTrMRBDyEXafOsNpcSuOvCKxHtY4XLawHcG9zAxAa4223jmoa7K-IEbfWUzd4-wk/s1600/splinter+tweezer.jpg" /></b></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><b> </b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>We all celebrated by eating ice cream (cause let’s be
honest, ice cream makes everything better).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was on a high that she LET me do that!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She didn’t even squirm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When she
said stop, I stopped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When she was
scared she held Mike’s hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her sisters
used words of encouragement and rubbed her back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We not only got that huge splinter out, but
we bonded through it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was beautiful!</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fast forward 2 weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Apparently Caroline decided that it was time for her to get some one on
one time (just kidding) so she bit it while playing tag and jacked up her knee
pretty good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am one of those “just
brush it off” kind of moms, but even I had to admit that it was bad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So we packed up the healthy, grain free
dinner that was nearly finished being prepared, went through the drive through
at McDonald’s and headed to the ER.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The other 2 went to their Grammy’s house, so it was just
Caroline and me, and I must admit, we had fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yes, you heard that right, we had fun at the ER.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She enjoyed being in a wheelchair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She got to watch Sam & Kat on
Nickelodeon, which she isn’t allowed to watch at home on account of it being
the most annoying show on television.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Plus we both agreed that she probably had the cutest doctor in the
hospital.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUv-7HOWB95UCwxFiKPkHLLoY2j614Wd7avFHKf3BuLpay0he8jCTt2XE5Te1C27eW6XvjE4-8P5vF2NZWx8o5nxbMgm0W7_E9B9maFLVmM315_d4afDKb3ZkbUT47wq-g3wjwpBvU_5g/s1600/482530_10152273786133273_40412919_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUv-7HOWB95UCwxFiKPkHLLoY2j614Wd7avFHKf3BuLpay0he8jCTt2XE5Te1C27eW6XvjE4-8P5vF2NZWx8o5nxbMgm0W7_E9B9maFLVmM315_d4afDKb3ZkbUT47wq-g3wjwpBvU_5g/s1600/482530_10152273786133273_40412919_n.jpg" height="320" width="234" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All was good though, the x-ray showed no break.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was just a bad bruise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was only 2 days ago now and since then
she has had a couple of episodes where she was in quite a bit of pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m still not sure if she’s in that much pain
or if she has realized that she can get my full and undivided attention, but I
have to assume the former.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is
learning that she is my priority, that if something is wrong with her I will
drop everything to take care of her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
has been a wonderful bonding experience for both of us.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When you have children from hard places, children who have
been through a kind of hell that you or I could never imagine, the most
important, and difficult, value to obtain is trust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It takes years to undo the harm that other
people have done to their young psyches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It is for this reason I am grateful that God provides us opportunities
like these to earn our children’s trust. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you are an adoptive mama, look for
opportunities to use unfortunate or unpleasant situations as a chance to
bond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Silver lining.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994407733960330174.post-16009985838888934182014-01-22T17:07:00.000-08:002014-08-15T10:12:08.655-07:00There Must be a Miscommunication...<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I have seen a lot of posts on Facebook lately about that
fateful expression “God won’t give you more than you can handle.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hate that phrase.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hate it with all that’s in my soul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvnwtMdcR9NJwVuZf0qDNtRLI1p0OfDQV2OGIYm9e1SiUB1gl3ktYH8O9tFgh9cIRROsf7AZnSNHR6AEGNOOyp3w_iJ8XkhT_6bk7x4Q-SIIF9aIsz6Tdh9ekBTX1lun6Sk3ovf9KHeOU/s1600/God+handle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvnwtMdcR9NJwVuZf0qDNtRLI1p0OfDQV2OGIYm9e1SiUB1gl3ktYH8O9tFgh9cIRROsf7AZnSNHR6AEGNOOyp3w_iJ8XkhT_6bk7x4Q-SIIF9aIsz6Tdh9ekBTX1lun6Sk3ovf9KHeOU/s1600/God+handle.jpg" /></b></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I believed it for years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was diagnosed with a chronic, painful medical condition at age
19.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I spent years convincing myself that
God must really have some serious faith in how much I could handle and I used
that phrase to empower myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Then, I got married…young.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Marriage is hard!” people tried to tell me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember thinking to myself “Well YOUR
husband must just be a jerk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My husband
is perfect!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Guess what?!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>MARRIAGE IS HARD!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were both going through graduate school,
living paycheck to paycheck trying to work and go to school full time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is when I began to suspect that, if God
really does only give you what you can handle, then there must be a
miscommunication somewhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He must have
me confused with someone else.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The next phase of my life is when I became convinced that
not only WILL God give you more than<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>you
can handle, and he will give you sooooo much more that it forces you to rely on
Him, (or start drinking heavily!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
started out on the journey of adoption.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At first it was all rainbows and butterflies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, the paperwork was endless, people didn’t
quite understand why we were taking this path, we didn’t quite receive the
overwhelming joyful reaction we had hoped for from those closest to us and
there were tears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All in all though, it
was good. Stressful, but good. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Once we got the call about the twins though, the bottom
dropped out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We took over the disrupted
adoption of twin 4 year olds who didn’t speak any English, were in diapers, had
only been in the country for 6 weeks and didn’t know us from Adam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were terrified, traumatized, and behaved
like wild animals…no exaggeration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The first night, once they finally went to sleep, I remember
turning to Mike and asking him “Can we really do this?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What have we gotten ourselves into?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am sure a lot of first time parents can
relate to that feeling, especially those of multiples.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8LId8RrkgJyHLWYiE_3uG2El93RnFD_5BQPfF1NpiIvJDwrW7eEjJiXLqmy1XPQoEmHPSAqfVq_7EMP4a3Lf7uNAJHjSu9CVJMBYSiwv7uwKO1gCxV5NR8Z0AE9kzyeQ4HuY38yrIyYU/s1600/God+won%2527t+give+you.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8LId8RrkgJyHLWYiE_3uG2El93RnFD_5BQPfF1NpiIvJDwrW7eEjJiXLqmy1XPQoEmHPSAqfVq_7EMP4a3Lf7uNAJHjSu9CVJMBYSiwv7uwKO1gCxV5NR8Z0AE9kzyeQ4HuY38yrIyYU/s1600/God+won%2527t+give+you.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That first year consisted of hardly leaving the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were tantrums and rages that lasted
hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We became very familiar with the
art of physical restraint, in fact that became our method of bonding because it
was happening every day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The worst part
about it was that we couldn’t really get to the core of why they were so angry,
because of the language barrier.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you know our adoption story, then you understand how we
knew that God had these children planned for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The confusing part was HOW IN THE WORLD DID
HE THINK WE COULD DO THIS??<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, I have
my degrees in early childhood education and developmental psychology, but no
class can prepare you for this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was
beyond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every book we read (and we read
a lot of them) said we were doing everything right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You may think this would be comforting for
us, but instead it was infuriating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If
we were doing everything right, then why were they acting like this?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The independent, control freak in me waived the white
flag.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to surrender.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to admit I couldn’t do this alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If God gave me these girls, then He was going
to have to help me through this, but that meant me letting Him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That meant me leaning on Him, praying,
reading His word and living it through my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I had to stop caring or listening to what everyone else was telling me
to do and listen to Him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Guess what?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It worked! :)<span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"></span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Slowly, my anxiety waned, the girls began
trusting us, and our marriage was actually strengthened through this very tough
time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I began to see God working in our
lives in incredible ways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I learned to
trust Him and His timing in my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
took time, and it’s still a work in progress.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you are in a place in your life where you don’t
understand why, why would God do this to you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Know this: He will use this to draw you closer to Him, you just have to
let Him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Throw up your hands, throw in
the white flag and surrender.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can’t
do it alone.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994407733960330174.post-18843510824024163862014-01-08T18:17:00.000-08:002014-08-15T10:12:19.197-07:00Christmas Break...I'm so over you!<b>The kids have been home with me for 20 days. TWENTY DAYS. I feel like I am writing this from beind enemy lines, in the trenches of motherhood. It's not been pretty, although I've been told that when I look back on it...years from now, it will be funny, so here goes.</b><br />
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<b>It wasn't just that it has been 20 days of Christmas break. These past 20 days in particular have included the days with the most sugar and chaos of any other time of the year, along with the least amount of routine. For any child this combination is a recipe for disaster, but for kids from hard places, we are talking nuclear meltdown.</b><br />
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<b>Poor Celia was so confused. First of all, she had only been in our family for 6 weeks at Christmas and if you've ever met my family, we are a lot. A lot to handle, a lot to get used to and a lot to take in, just a lot. Secondly this child has never celebrated Christmas the way we do. She asked why we were hanging those socks on the fireplace. Her other family didn't do Santa and stockings, so who knows what else they didn't do. I must say that on Christmas day she did so well and wasn't at all overwhelmed. In fact all of the girls did great on Christmas day, when Christmas was over it was a whole different story.</b><br />
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<b>This happened on December 26th.</b><br />
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<b>This happened after she started crying at 8am that her shoes wouldn't fit over her "funny pajamas" aka footie pajamas, so I told her to take them off. I meant that she should get dressed, but this worked too I guess. That smile was forced, my friends, through a lot of tears. This child was worn out from Christmas but she really wanted to roller skate at 8am. Also, note that her necklace plays Ariel's voice from Little Mermaid when the sea witch takes it...over and over...and over again. Sadly it's been "lost" for the last week.</b><br />
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<b>That night my sister and her family came and stayed with us for a few days. While it was super fun I found out that while 3 children can make a pretty serious mess, 5 children can make a tornado level mess. Once they left we worked on getting the house back in order. Right after I had vacuumed the girls asked to eat some popcorn that they had received for Christmas. I said "Yes, but if you make a mess I will destroy you." I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that this next photo happened within 2 seconds of me finishing that statement...and then Charlotte was destroyed.</b><br />
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<b>I am trying to learn to laugh at these things in the moment and to take a picture because people think I make this stuff up! I couldn't! I'm not that creative!</b><br />
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Another great idea I had was to switch up Caroline's medication over break. I knew it would cause some behavior issues and I wanted her to be able to work through those at home rather than at school. That was dumb. Basically the other medication got out of her system before the new stuff could build up so we had a few days where I thought I was going to have to resort to drinking heavily. One day we went out to get in the car and she had left a light on in my car overnight, so my battery was dead. While Mike and I were outside for, at most, 8 minutes, she decided to take a wooden wand and hit a light on the Christmas tree. I came in and saw broken blue glass all over the floor. Assuming it was an accident I asked what happened. What I got was that basically she meant to break it and didn't know why she did it. What the heck do I do with that people?! None of the parenting books tell you about how to deal with this, I've checked! It's so hard to have patience with a child who doesn't understand why she makes these choices.<br />
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In the midst of all of this madness, it was time to celebrate Ethiopian Christmas. This was fun because it was Celia's first time going to the Ethiopian restaurant and meeting a bunch of other kids who looked like her. I think it was also her first time trying Ethiopian food and she loved it, all of it!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiojSJJIoyEBDYdg0wubClmR2yOsDAl7zSmFCZtfJWfXfMgGYjX2ArUoAdRuqPvy4r77Vf1IjNDY28A7MXEKh26DPYz7sbZXXBrU5uACXGcKZDFzqQA9XfSkxbBcvu1hCi7ejHnwjtxLo/s1600/119.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiojSJJIoyEBDYdg0wubClmR2yOsDAl7zSmFCZtfJWfXfMgGYjX2ArUoAdRuqPvy4r77Vf1IjNDY28A7MXEKh26DPYz7sbZXXBrU5uACXGcKZDFzqQA9XfSkxbBcvu1hCi7ejHnwjtxLo/s1600/119.JPG" height="200" width="148" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPKh5E_ti2RBV4LaqMlBZJCZXGzFJRyHKzv92RFIqs_BXxAXc1_jyQarRI2lOiSbCw5fqNIqkthAql59FPIQT4nJLKPhK_e3tVxgEk9QRSAXZpJ-N2piqRTkVjkdRpZ2oPX9THvw1_7xc/s1600/116.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPKh5E_ti2RBV4LaqMlBZJCZXGzFJRyHKzv92RFIqs_BXxAXc1_jyQarRI2lOiSbCw5fqNIqkthAql59FPIQT4nJLKPhK_e3tVxgEk9QRSAXZpJ-N2piqRTkVjkdRpZ2oPX9THvw1_7xc/s1600/116.JPG" height="149" width="200" /></a><br />
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Thank God that Caroline's meds finally started kicking in and I got to see some of her joy and contentment come back into her eyes. She was so excited to go back to school. My kids crave routine and predictability.<br />
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<b>Then snowpacalypse 2014 happened. They couldn't play outside. They couldn't go to school. It was cancelled 3 days in a row. THREE DAYS IN A ROW.</b><br />
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I decided to try to be the fun mom and let all three sisters from different misters sleep on the floor together when we found out about the snowday the night before. They loved me that night, went to bed with all of their little dolls, and I scored some points for sure. How did they repay me? They were up and LOUD by 6:50am. On their day off. I have learned my lesson. I will no longer try to be fun.<br />
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This morning, 2 out of the three of them were in tears before 8am, before anyone even went downstairs! Charlotte "handed a book" to Caroline by throwing it at her head and it left a nice goose egg. Celia had an accident in her bed and while Charlotte was trying to help her take her sheets off Celia began wailing because she didn't want to take her Hello Kitty sheets off of her bed. This is like trying to negotiate with terrorists at this point, three little lady terrorists. They don't understand logic, nor do they have any desire to. <br />
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I realize how blessed I am that my family lives close and are brave enough to take the three of them for a couple of hours at a time so I could get some work done. When I picked the girls up today from my mother in law's house she looked like she'd been through a war. We're tired. These kids NEED to get back in their routine. The past 20 days have reminded me why, although I have my teaching license, I should NEVER homeschool my children.<br />
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Someone asked me tonight if the girls have school tomorrow. I said "I hope they do, because they are getting dressed and I am dropping them off at the school doors at 8:45am. No matter what."<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720749688287069351noreply@blogger.com0