fa la la *crash* ut oh!

and with that a whole 1/2 gallon of Oberweis eggnog - almost 6 bucks for a bottle is all over the floor. Glass everywhere, eggnog yet to be tasted spreading across the floor. But not to be beaten I stuck my finger in it at the risk of ingesting glass and tasted. Two huge thumbs up for Oberweis, if you like eggnog this is what eggnog is suppose to taste like. We WILL buy another bottle.

And lucky for my little Bear he was wearing shoes at the time of the incident so his feet suffered no injuries. Mommy's foot however still hurts from that rouge piece of glass that made her foot bleed.

Just a side note to anyone who cares - eggnog is really really really hard to get off the floor. Four washings later and I think the stickyness is gone. I think. I will have to let it dry to see...

not enough ______, too much _________

i haven’t written a good adoption post for a couple months now. There has been a reason for that. I’m avoiding. That and I have too much to say that really can’t be said. That is why I’ve titled this the way I have. I am going to try to attempt to get some of these thoughts out of my head so that maybe I can have a little peace if only for a few hours.

Not enough sleep. I am so tired. The dreams that I have been having are horrible. I dream constantly about Calvin and Hobbies (my new name for my twins). In the last dream I had the birth father got to go visit them. In my dreams about the twins I always get to visit them, or at least see them in varying degrees. And that wakes me up with too much longing, but the horrid part is that those longings don’t go away a couple minutes after I wake up. Those stay with me all day. All week. Sometimes all month. But the problem is that even in my most hopeful moments I know the adoptive parents would never let me have a visit. So that longing will be unfulfilled. I will never see their eleven year old faces in person, only in a photo. Only in my dreams.

Not enough willpower to stay away from the adoption community on the internet. Why do I subject myself to this? Why? When things are said like:

"im an adoptee and im tired of hearing these birthmothers saying how the agencies stole there children i dont belive that one bit i think there just not taking the responsabitires of there actions they chose to give up ther child nobody forced them i think they just dont want the responsabilty of rasing a child so they dump the child on some fool that thinks they should raise a child thats how my adoptive parents made me see it the birrthmom would rather go out and party than change diapers i think a mother that thinks like this shouldnt be aloud to have anymore children after she gives up a child have there rights taken away for once instaed of the adoptees rights."

Now I know I have to take these things with a grain of salt, but there are adoptees out there that feel that way and adoptive parents saying horrid stuff about birth mothers. And it breaks my heart even more. I try to stick to the boards but that isn’t much better. Happy gottcha day, I’m a mommy now (before termination of the birth mom’s rights) posts abound. Let’s not forget the combative adoptive moms that pretend to care (or at least in their own head think that they are being caring, when really they are being condescending). We are talked down to like we are small children, when really I have more education, have lived this longer, and am older then a good portion of them. Honestly they might not see their own insecurities, but they come out loud and clear to anyone remotely trained in the helping profession. I just shake my head as too much frustration builds, and I need to walk away. But I feel like the proverbial dog returning to its vomit when it comes to the boards.

Not enough trust in the public school system. My almost three year old went to school yesterday so he can learn to speak. I almost had too many panic attacks to count. That is a whole post in and of itself that I really don’t want to get into today.

Not enough patience with my children, but too much fear to leave them with someone so that I could get a break. So we are watching way too much t.v. I feel like the worst mom in the world.

Not enough energy to clean my house, but too many good ingredients to waste and so I add to the mess by baking and cooking and leave the mess for my husband. Poor guy. But it has been my only release. At least the poor neglected children and husband are eating well.

Not enough time with my husband. He is working crazy hours as a UPS driver right now. Some days he is gone for 14 hours a day. There has been more than one night he got home close to 10pm. And I am so frustrated because the church he is a part time pastor is at doesn’t understand. It is Christmas time after all! So they are asking for more time from him too. So I am spending too much time alone. I miss my support system.

Not enough guts to write a letter to the Calvin and Hobbes, but getting impatient to send off the letter to the adoptive parents that has been ready for months. I have too much fear about letter writing in general and this time, well I think this might be the death of me.

Not enough money. Too much demand for it. $1,400 is due so that my hubby and I can keep our licenses as ministers. Ya know couldn’t they do it in July? Christmas is such and awful time for these things to be due.

All these things together culminated into what I can only assume is the beginning of an ulcer. Last night I was in so much pain I could barley breathe. I’m not sure what to do about it. I didn’t have my coffee this morning, but that makes me more crabby. I am sore and frustrated about the whole thing. It’s been years since I let things get to me like this. On top of that we are weaning the Bear off his pacifier. Why now Bear’s Mommy? Good question, internet. Good question. Simply my house is such a mess that I couldn’t find one at nap time, and well it was my only option. So Elmo came and took all the Bear’s paci’s for all the poor kids for Christmas when he was at school. It just popped out of my mouth. I think I’ve lost it. Really I have.

So there is my humongous whiny post. I could go on, but I think if you’ve made it this far you get the point. If you made it though than obviously you care so please pray for my sanity, pray for my poor tummy, and pray that I find a constructive way to deal with my stress. Oh and pray that I will have the kahonas to write that darn Christmas letter.

l.a.

i don't often do this, but it think this is so neat and for some reason the music and the video fit my mood. enjoy.

for this reason

I believe that God is sovereign. He knows what he is doing. I also believe that a humans have free will. Some of the things that God has allowed me to experience in my life are for my own good - to make me a stronger person to bless me, to help me learn patience, compassion, love, and many other attributes I would have never had unless he had guided me down a certain path. I also believe that God gives us free will. We are allowed to make good decisions and some really stupid ones.

As a parent I have learned that sometimes my little ones need to have natural consequences for their actions. If Little Bear doesn't eat his dinner he goes to bed hungry. I could give in and fix his empty tummy and give him ice cream for dinner, but then he wouldn't learn that he needs to eat the good nutritious food I put in front of him. There are other times that I must step in and stop the natural consequence from happening. Like when my 11 month old is heading towards the hot stove. Not only would she burn herself, but she is not ready to learn the lesson that the stove is hot and should be avoided. When Bear was 18 months I took him to the warm stove - it was warm enough to be a little scary - but not warm enough to hurt him and taught him what hot meant. I let him touch it. He recoiled as I said hot over and over. He said "dot." It wasn't hot enough to hurt him, but it was hot enough to teach him a lesson. Form that point on he had a healthy respect for "hot."

I think God works in a very similar way. He knows what each person can handle. He know the lessons that each individual needs to learn. He saves some of us from the natural consequences of our actions and allows another in the very same situation to suffer from their actions. Is it harsh? Yes. But I have to believe in God and his sovernty. He sees the plan for my life and works all things together for good. Do I understand? Heck no. Do I believe He knows best? Most days. I question, oh man do I question why. But I have to believe that he does this for this reason - so that He may be glorified through me.

Some days this is almost impossible to comprehend that he would allow me to go through some of the awful things He has. Why did I have to ______ (reliquish, be raped, loose my job, have my best friend die, face infertillity). But some days I look around and find it impossible to believe how much he has blessed me - how he has taken me from the ultimate low spot in my life to this point now where I am so richly blessed by His grace and mercy. But most days I fall in between and plod on knowing that he choose me for this reason - and although I might not see the big plan, I know that ultimately that He wants to be glorified through me. I also know that God wants good things for his children and so it can't all be bad, there is so much good too. I just have to be willing to accept both.

grape juice!

Specifically drinking Welch's Grape juice makes me feel weird. Why you ask? Because after taking, performing, and preparing communion in a Pentecostal church with the stuff it feels so wrong to drink it and serve it to my kids as a "healthy juice." To me it's been a symbol of the blood of Christ for 31 years, for goodness sakes! It's just weird to drink it. To bad it tastes so good otherwise I would stop.

That is all.

old and new fears

it's strange to me how relinquishing my twins affects my parenting now. I think the most prevalent characteristic of that parenting style is that I am overprotective. I am petrified that something bad is going to happen to my children. This past week was only a reminder that no matter how much I heal - that relinquishment will always be with me.

On Sunday my Princess started running a fever and was generally just not herself. She is not like her brother and reacts to the slightest thing that is wrong with her. So to accommodate her all four of us were all in the bedroom and I was playing with her very subdued little self on the bed. My husband asked me a question about what basket was clean and what basket was dirty. See I have a major problem with laundry ... I hate it. And my dear husband was trying to help out by getting some stuff put away. So I put some pillows around the my tired sick girl and got up to go check the silly baskets. I was less than three feet away from her. I made my verdict in about 10 seconds only to turn around to see my little girl crawling over the pillow toward the edge of the bed. Two seconds seemed like an eternity as I watched her tumble head first over the edge of the bed. I honestly don't remember how I got over there I just remember seeing her on the floor and hearing her instant scream. Thoughts ran though my head as quickly as they could - should I pick her up?is she bleeding?is she hurt?is she going to die? I picked her up and started shaking and uttering profanities. I was overcome with guilt, horror, and shame instantly. How could I have let this happen? How? How could I have been so stupid to leave my eight month old on the bed alone? I am so careful, so overprotective. I don't get how I could have messed up this bad.

I started feeling her tiny frame as I am holding her as close as possible. She is wailing at the top of her lungs, I just know something is horribly wrong. But as I check her out I can find nothing wrong. I realize that my husband is talking to me asking for her, to hold her. All I can say is no and hold her tighter in my shaking arms. Then the words get ugly and somehow he blames me. And into that turmoil of emotion comes anger, an intense anger. How could he know me for 9 years and not know the blame that I was already putting on myself? Does he not know that this moment, this horrible terrible moment will be with me for the rest of my life? That I will always feel guilt in regard to it, that his words - even if they are taken back - will always be with me? That the 'your not good enough to be a mommy' thoughts have already started to come back?

I left the room to be alone with my daughter to gently prod and test as many bones as I could. To look into her eyes, to sit in the best piece of furniture in our apartment, our glider, the place she knows is safe. Finally in our glider together we both start to calm down. I think she fed off my fear. And even though I keep shaking for an hour after I find nothing wrong with her as I examine her over and over. Not one bruise or red mark, not even a scratch. But she is clingy and wants to be held for the rest of the night. And I oblige her.

My husband apologized after a brief discussion and I let him hold her. But the need to have her in my arms is stronger than my own need to breathe. Except to give her to him, get a drink, and pee I couldn't let go of her for hours. The fear was starting to creep in. The fear that even though she appeared to be okay that she was going to die. That damn fear has haunted me since before Bear was born. A year and a half ago I wrote about it. I had been learning to let go. Up until a few months ago I had never let Bear go down a slide by himself. I am and always will be overprotective. But I was making so much progress. I was so proud of myself for letting him be a little boy, letting him run and jump. I am so fearful to the point of not letting him go to a baseball game alone with daddy because I'm afraid he will tumble down the stadium stairs, or get abducted, or insert something awful here. I had almost said ... "okay go." and now... now my heart stops thinking about being away from him.

The night she fell off the bed I didn't get much sleep. I pulled her crib next to my bed and listened to her breathe. I nursed her whenever she made a peep. I slept so lightly I woke up if she turned over.

The next morning she was running a fever. She was sweaty and when I went to take her temperature it registered at 102.6. I knew that I needed to take her in to the doctor. But a new fear was creeping in, one that I have never had before. They are going to take her away from me, and Little Bear too. And it took everything that was in me to make that appointment because I knew that this was it. I was going to loose them over this. I have read about this fear but never really felt it, and I hate it, each second of it.

The pediatrician examined her and deemed that it must just be a virus and that no damage was done from the fall. She reassured me that it happens to almost everyone and instead of being a bad mother - I was a good one for bringing her in and not trying to cover it up. She said that abusive mothers bring their baby in when the baby exhibits something wrong, and then lie about "falling off the bed."

Still the fear stays with me. Now that's on my record. What happens when they see all the many bruises on Little Bear? He hurts himself on the weirdest things, like the TV antenna that I still have no idea how he pulled on his head. It would be worthy of a laugh if I wasn't so worried about it.

In the last few days my princess' temperature spiked at 104.5. I was terrified. I didn't sleep, nor did she really. I feared all kinds of awful things, until yesterday when her fever broke. Still I couldn't sleep last night not knowing what was really wrong with her. Today she woke up with an awful rash and although you would think it would exacerbate the worry, relief washed over me. She has roseola. Bear had it 6 months ago. It is harmless.

I am exhausted. Yes, gone is the extreme anxiety that has been with me since she fell. But I am still so tired. My stress level for the past 5 days have almost drove me to the brink. And really knowing that my little girl isn't going to die... well ... I can't put it into words the relief I feel. Even if I knew deep in my heart those fears weren't founded.

the boys, harry potter, mary jane, & the girls

did you all know that UPS is open on the Saturday that Harry Potter comes out? It’s crazy. They are having a sign up for the drivers if they want to work that day. The management says that it will be a full 8 hour day and all they we will be doing is delivering “The Deathly Hallows” all day long! Holy cow batman! That’s a lot of books. Of course I will also be anxiously awaiting my delivery from UPS or if my husband works that day, for him to get home with my copy.

Little Bear and I quite often frolic in the huge lawn that is outside our apartment. We are very lucky to life in a nice area that is relatively free of crime. Unfortunately, our apartment complex is the one spot in our entire area that is sometimes less than great. For example a couple of months ago around 9pm my hubby and I noticed a police officer with his gun drawn sneaking around the clubhouse. I was a little freaked out about that. I guess the police also think this might be a scary place. Later I found out that someone had just tripped the alarm when going into the workout room. It does make me feel a lot safer though that the police station is only ½ mile away and that they drive through our parking lots quite frequently. Anyhow as we were frolicking the yard I found this:

I thought “We really need to move if this is just randomly growing in our yard.” But after some research on the web I found out that it was just cinquefoil, a little herby-weed. Relief washed over me. Ahhh, I guess I don’t live in ghetto-land.

I’ve been exhausted lately. My princess just isn’t interested in food and at almost 8 months old and that is a really bad thing. She loves nursing and just doesn’t want to eat solids. She is also teething. . . . . Plus after 7 ½ months “she” finally came back. The only good thing about “her” coming back is that I thought I might be pregnant again because I was tired, crabby, etc . . . I was relived I wasn’t. But after more intent research I find “she” is a major reason for nursing woes. I was pumping in order to mix with her food so that she would eat better. Then I actually saw blood coming out with the milk I pumped. The pump went back in the closet – maybe never to come out again. The pain was so intense for a few days that I wanted to cry every time I nursed, but all is getting better. I just plain took a break from trying to feed her. Yesterday I could tell she needed more than just milk so we are going to start the battle again today. Any suggestions about late eaters and how to work with them would be VERY appreciated.

On the adoption front – I GOT A LETTER! Just when I needed one. A few days earlier I cried out to Jesus that I really needed something. I really think He knew and heard my prayer and saw the desperation of my heart. I think he moved her heart to write me. It is the fastest I have ever received a letter back (three ½ months). I am praying that it is the start of really good things for our relationship. I admit that if I am more stable (about contact and my life – or at least appear to be)than maybe their mom will be more willing to write me. I don’t think I have been as stable as they had hoped. Maybe? I know so, and I am ashamed of it. But I am committed to be more consistent with them and maybe just maybe something good will happen . . . at least I can pray in that direction.

domestic goddess

sometimes I hate the fact that I have become so domestic. Wasn't it me in college that was "the feminist?" I was the only woman in the pastoral program. I was so very proud of that too. I fought for the right to take those classes along with the boys, I fought for the idea that women could be ministers too. I was labeled as a feminist. I was looked at as radical. No one really stopped to hear my views, or really listen to what I had to say, if they had they would have realized that I am not all that radical and that I don't believe that women should be senior pastors except in special situations. That gets into Theology and interpretation of the scripture and I am really really tired of explaining that to people, so I'm not going to bother here.

The whole point is that I fought for a really long time to be respected as a woman minister. There was a point that I didn't even want children. And now look at me. I'm a SAHM with a very part time church job. I cook and clean and wipe kids butts every day. I'm gardening, baking, and sewing. When did I turn into this person? The better question how can the same person who was such a feminist now be enjoying the role she is playing now? It's crazy to me that I take so much pleasure in domesticity.

This week was a pinnacle in my domestic goddess status. I sewed a dress (that I altered from the original pattern) for my beautiful little princess this week. Oh. My. Goodness. I had so much fun doing so. And when I put it on her I think I squealed in delight. I baked the best banana bread I have ever tasted - it was of my own creation. I used fresh herbs from my garden to roast a whole chicken, I used the pan juices to make some of the best sauce ever. And why didn't anyone ever tell me gardening was so fun? Getting my hands in the dirt and taking care of flowers is so rewarding. Not that I have a huge garden -I live in an apartment, but I take joy in sitting on my patio with all the beauty that I have nurtured around me.

I started all this domestic stuff in the attempt to be the perfect mommy. I think that that is one thing that birth parents and adoptive parent often share (not all the time, I am generalizing), the feeling that one must be perfect. But along the way I have found that I really do enjoy being domestic. I still HATE cleaning and especially washing dishes. But I love creating. My creativity can go crazy in the kitchen, garden and on fabric. And there is something amazing about saying - "I made this!"

the dress on my beautiful princess

banana bread and coffee on my patio


fresh herbs for my cooking!

It snowed!

It snowed right up to our windows! I'm feeling a little claustrophobic

Okay so she's been here for a while but . . .

Anya is here. She is a beautiful wonderful little girl.