What's That Light at the End of the Tunnel?

I am about to emerge from the 7 month long fog I have been living in.   This fog creeps into our lives, cold and icey, and steals all our free time in late August.  Early mornings, late evenings and certainly every weekend consumed and we entire the dark tunnel of our winters. 

But last night at about 10:30 pm I heard a large horn signalling this train was heading out of the icey fog and a light at the end of the proverbial tunnel became apparent.   So it might have just been the buzzer signalling the end of the third period of the last hockey game of the entire season, but still I saw light!

And I see lazy Saturdays in my future.  You know, lazy meaning I can finally get some house work done, or venture into our yard noone has touched since September.   Except the next tournament for "Spring Hockey" starts next weekend.

I had better enjoy tomorrow.

(all pictures courtesy of my Sister taken at this weeks Provincial Championships)

That's My Boy

Pretty cool picture of my brave and honorable son that was in the Sports Section of the paper yesterday. That's him with the puck.

The bad part? He didn't score.

In case you wonder what I am doing with myself.

Greg

Tanner in goal, Eric on defense

Caden at tryouts

TEN. TEN ice times this weekend. T-E-N. That's like 8 more than are enjoyable.

Adoption Diary is coming. Soon. Like maybe in the spring.

Enjoy your weekend. You know where to find me.

Parenting With a Support Team: How Novel

Friday was Mom and Son baking day in Caden's class. I was dealing with my own class, and trying to run back and forth to "participate".

Grandma to the rescue.

We have lived almost 12 years in a community without any extended family. I have never had "back up" for childcare. No grandma to run over when a child is sick. No aunts to take over when I have the flu. When it came to doctor's appointments, school functions, or emergencies all my boys have always been dragged along. A scheduling conflict between two events? One parent goes one way, another goes the other or someone misses out.

Trust me, taking 3 preschoolers to the doctor with your newborn? Is not as fun as it sounds.

And on Friday, on the first day of her first visit in almost 8 years my mom got to fill in with Caden and had a wonderful time.

And then she turned Eric back into "clean cut and respectable young man".

And he actually seemed to enjoy the process.

The weekend was crazy. 6 ice times, a hockey parents meeting, church, Sunday School, laundry, meals, and sleep. Add in there a birthday party for a friend that was way, way out of my league but resulted in a small amount of ego stroking as I was ID'ed at the door. A son on a terror of attitude and behavior for two straight days and Shel travelling with another child to a city over an hour away each way for hockey and did I mention being tired?

You all can quit praying now!

Oh for goodness sakes! Who out there has a direct line to the Hockey Gods? And once you come forward and admit it, I will promptly tell you to STICK A SOCK IN IT!!

Greg is on the Bantaam Rep Team.

Eric is on the Pee Wee Rep Team.

Tanner got a call last night and has been asked to join the Pee Wee Development Team as their goalie. And will still have to play on his House Team.

Caden has tryouts this weekend.

4 boys, 5 full fledged hockey teams. From past Monday until this coming Sunday evening we have TWELVE ice times.

Twelve ice times that come around school hours. Twelve ice times that come around work hours. Twelve ice times that mean we are at the rink for AT LEAST two hours each time.

Twelve ice times. And you know what, hockey doesn't really even START for another month.

Oh and did I mention the tournaments? Starting this weekend the boys are travelling all over God's Green Earth (or Hell's frozen ponds, depending on your perspective) for hockey. Hockey that hasn't really started yet.

Oh and in further dramatic news my mother is "surprising" me with a visit (thank the Lord for my sister who knew I would want a bit of a warning - Thanks Jess. I love you DEARLY!!). She will be arriving within the next hour. If you know me IRL you are already on your knees. If you don't, suffice to say ... Shel is breaking out the whisky as we speak.

Adoption Thoughts: The "Bad" Adoptee

We arrived at Greg's hockey tournament Wednesday night. Thrilled to see my giant, independent son!

He was beautiful but oh the stench! I am pretty sure he had been wearing the same clothes for a week. He SMELLED like he had been wearing the same clothes for a year!

We were introduced to Greg's friend, "Nate". We met Nate's dad. Happy, friendly introductions were made all around. Exchange of stories. Exchange of information about mutual friends.

We parents have much in common. The adoption world is not that big. We share friends. We share social workers.

Our boys also have much in common.

Adopted.
American Born.
Black.
Excellent Hockey Players.
Friends.

An hour after we met him, Nate was kicked out of the hockey program.

He was arrested.
He was charged.

Drugs. Weapons.

Nate was gone. No warning, no goodbyes. The police came and searched the boys' room. The kids were all sat down and told what had happened.

Drug paraphernalia found in his bag. It fell out on the ground in front of the counsellor when he reached into his backpack to grab his cell phone. A search found 3 knives and more drugs.

Arrested.
Charged.
Kicked Out.

Shocking and traumatic, as you can imagine, for ALL the boys. Horrifying for the parents.

And then the added burden for Greg. The added burden that unless you have walked in our shoes you don't even think about. Because in Nate, he sees reflection of self. And WORSE, others see a reflection of self.

Adopted.
American Born.
Black.
Excellent Hockey Player.
Friends.

Greg is the OTHER adopted child on the team. The OTHER black player on the team. The OTHER. The child who sticks out. The child the other parents would associate with Nate.

I sat in the stands of the arena and heard the parents discuss the situation.

"Well you know he was adopted, right?"

"He's probably trouble from way back."

"Why do they let kids with problems COME anyways?"

I understood their frustration. I didn't send my 13 year old child away to an elite level athletic program and expect them to be exposed to drugs or weapons either.

But I also ached for my child. For every adopted child and adult.

Every time a negative adoption news story comes out. Every time an adopted teenager makes a mistake or screws up royally. Every time someone looks at my child and see how he excels. How he succeeds. How he stumbles. How he chooses to live his life. Adopted is the label. Adopted is in the mirror of his reflection of self.

"Well he was adopted you know"

"That's Jen, she adopted those boys from the states"

I have no answers. No quick fix. I can only tell my son that I understand its complicated. That its more complicated than it should be. That I understand when Nate got taken away in a police car, that for GREG it was a big deal. A big deal because no matter what, there is no escape from the adoptee reality.