Smokey Hollow

This is the view from my front door.

And this is the view from my back.

We are at no risk ourselves from the fires surrounding our community, but it certainly doesn't make for pleasant conditions either in or outside of our home. 

We are, most certainly, praying for rain.

Awards

An amazing mom in her own right, J at Stellarparenting

gave me this award.

And my amazing friend Coco from Mommyhoodandlife recently gave me this award.

These are pretty much the rules for the awards, and I am a really lousy rule follower when it comes to things like this, so if I nominate you, please feel free to ignore the rules yourself, and just know that I really, really like your blogs and think some of my readers would enjoy them as well.

1) Post the award on your blog


2) Link to the person who sent it to you

3) Pass it on to some fellow bloggers who inspire you.

So, if you are interested in reading some blogs, adoption or otherwise, these are some of my favorites:

Both of the women who nominated me are a great place to start.  Stellarparenting is dealing with the realities of older child adoption on a daily basis.  It's tough, it's honest and it's completely anonymous which means she can share more than I can.  Go check her out.

Coco is my long time Internet Buddy.  She writes about life, parenting, addiction, adoption, and some incredible stories of a life well lived.  She will suck you into her world, and you will be better for it. 
Thanksgiving Mom also is so worth the read.  Her writing about her daughter, relinquished at birth, her complicated open adoption and her life is as beautiful and as heartfelt as she is.  I had the privilege of meeting her in person this spring during our trip to the Land Far Away and she is more gorgeous than you can imagine.   Now when I just went to her blog to nominate her for this award, I see she also nominated me again.  Honestly, it's just a giant mutual love fest.
 
WithlovefromSumy is a blog written by someone I am pretty sure doesn't know I exist, but the heartbreaking story of her beautiful son adopted from Russia whose mental health issues have resulted in her need to place him in a facility that can better help him will teach you so much.  You want to know what can happen when you adopt an older child?  Go read there.
 
Corey at Watchingthewaters is amazing.  Her honest, horrible, daily life with Reactive Attachment Disorder will open your eyes and break your heart.  She also has a fabulous network to support other moms parenting complicated kids.  Go read her. 
 
Jon and Patty from Xangelle are friends of mine from high school.  And their oldest daughter was diagnosed with cancer a month and a half ago just days before Patty delivered their fifth child.  For an inspiring story of faith, love, parenting, go read their blog. 
 
If you are considering a sibling group adoption both  Tudu and Cindy will scare the crap out of you, teach you, break your hearts and you will be a better adoptive parent for it. 
 
You want to be informed about some of the daily issues Native Americans face?  Go read here 
 
This is by no means a comprehensive list and already I am thinking of all those that I want to recommend and maybe, one day soon, I will suggest you read some more. 

Thank God those Genes Are Not MINE!

Some pre-adoptive parents bemoan and grieve the fact that their to-be-adopted child will not look like them, or inherit their genes.  The desire to be "replicated" in a little mini-me I suppose is normal and not really a bad thing, but it is NOT something that I desired at all. 

I look at Greg and Eric who are in the midst of what are SUPPOSED to be those horrid "awkward" years and realize that somehow, someway they are completely missing that phase.  I think that they just thank God that they were not inflicted with either then genes of myself or my husband. 

This is me at fifteen. 

  

 After this came the big bang phase.  I will spare you the torture.   Shel at fifteen was 6 feet 4 inches tall and 155 pounds.  Because I value my marriage, I won't post those pictures.

This is my son at 15. 

This is my son at 14.

At fourteen I was chubby, had thick, huge glasses and long, stringy hair.  It's almost not fair. 

It's almost not fair because these two boys have two brothers that have inherited our genes and they are on the brink of the same awkward period that I had to go through.  Don't get me wrong, both are beautiful and loved, and will turn into beautiful and loved adults but today Tanner is 5 foot 9 inches tall at 12 years old and weighs 102 pounds soaking wet.  He turns sideways and disappears and his bony shoulder blades could cut glass.  Everyone, everywhere comments on how tall he is.  And then how thin he is.  He is his father's son.  Caden's teeth are mine, all mine, and an orthodontist's dream come true. 

Some how I do believe that adding to the family gene pool can only be a good thing.

*** please know that this is only half serious.  All my 6 kids are beautiful and loved ... I just laughed out loud when reading a thread on an adoption forum where a mom was whining about the fact that her child might not look like her.  I am thoroughly in the THANK THE LORD category when it comes to some of my kids' avoiding the more difficult aspects of my genetic pool ***

Things to Remember

I love camping.  LOVE IT.  The camp fires, the family time, the making memories.

Sort of like giving birth, there are things you forget.  Or things you are never told.  So to spare all those other mothers out there I am going to share them with you.

Camping by yourself for 8 days at a campsite where you cant have hot water or electricity is hard.  Doing that with six kids without your husband there is plain old crazy making!

It will rain.  Inevitably it will rain. 

 

Six kids stuck inside of a tent trailer makes for a crazy mom.

But good memories.

Kids will get dirty.  Babies will get very dirty. 

Dirt will not kill your children.  You, however, after 8 days camping and no shower, might.  Or at least try and lose the dogs in the woods.

Two year olds will quit napping, one year olds will wake up before dawn and teenagers will want to stay up until midnight.   And you will decide that Jesus Himself made the water into wine and you will support that miracle in anyway possible.

But the sun will shine and the beach will call and you will forget all the reasons why it was hard because you are making memories with your kids.

And then you will come home and have to do laundry for a week. And take a very, very long shower.

Dear Teenager

We might have been over this before, but just to recap:

It is your turn to dry the dishes.  We both know you are perfectly capable of this simple task.

When I come into the kitchen and watch you place dripping dishes into the cupboard using the explanation "I couldn't find the drying cloth"  is not going to be acceptable.  TO ANYONE.

Getting angry AT ME when I require you to pull the wet dishes out of the assorted cupboards and actually DRY them because my expecations are "totally unreasonable" is not going to earn you bonus points.

Your future wife will one day thank me for being "so totally mean and RUINING your life".

Love,

Mom

PS  You have the art of a pout down to a science. I am sure there is a future in dramatic arts for you.

So Much More than Camp

I can't even express in words what Harambee means to us.  It's more than camp.  It's more than the activities.  It's more than the beautiful location.  It's more than 300 like minded people.   It's the totality of the experience and what that means for all of us. 

If you are a multiracial family I strongly encourage you to find this type of safe support system and invest yourself in it.  Give whatever you can because you will get back ten fold.

When words fail me, pictures sometimes speak for themselves.

And just in case you really wondered ... camping with six kids, two of whom are toddlers that are into EVERYTHING ... is a heck of a lot of work.  And I wouldn't change a moment of it.

The Power Of Moms

We (the collective Moms) did it.   Lisa of the Masabo Culture Company should be given huge amounts of credit for all that she did.

We didn't know it until the very last minute, but in a miracle of events, it happened.

225 tickets donated to Harambee Kids so we could go to Rihanna.  FLOOR SEATS. 

It was a night they will never, ever forget.

So to Lisa at South Okanagan Events Center and Rihanna's "people" we are forever grateful.

You can read more about how this happened here.

THANK YOU!!!!

Why Openness?

Why do I believe in open contact even when families are dysfunctional, addicted or even actively participating in criminal acts?

Because I believe it's best for my kids.  I took my son to meet his biological father in a Federal Prison.  Was that easy?  Of course not.  It was scary and overwhelming and slightly nauseating, and that was just for ME, I cannot fathom what he was feeling, but it was still totally the right thing to do. 

Why?  Because my son wanted to.  Because it's his truth and his reality.  Because he has a right to love his parent even if I would rather my kids never talked to anyone who has ever used drugs in their entire lives. 

Because he needed to know with his own ears that he was loved BY THEM. 

My love, my overabundant, over whelming, huge amount of pure love for my kids cannot erase their need and desire to be loved by their original parents. 

And he needed to know it and hear it at five and six and eight and thirteen, not at 18 or 21 or whatever random age the state told him he was allowed to know.   Because he needed to know, for real, that I respected his needs more than I worried about my own insecurities.   Because he needed to see that I LIKED his biological parents good parts in order to truly believe deep down that I loved all of him too.

How could I deny him that?  How could I deny my child ANYTHING he needed even if that means I get really, really uncomfortable.

Is it easy dealing with things that I have absolutely ZERO life experience dealing with?  No.  Honestly, I never thought I would be traipsing to prisons to visit people important to my kids.  I never, ever fathomed that I would EVER have a police officer drop by to retrieve stolen property during a visit with anyone in my life EVER.  I didn't fathom a life where I had to explain to children why the person we are visiting once hurt them, and why it's ok to be angry at someone and then still be ok to love them.  I didn't expect to be comfortable explaining mental illness to a six year old or the effects of sexual promiscuity to a ten year old. 

I have never so much as smoked a cigarette in my life so I never really thought I would have to understand intimately the power of addiction and its affect on my children. 

But you know I really, really love my kids.  And they are really, really amazing kids and they are really, really worth it. 

I understand that some would use any of the ample excuses at my disposal as a reason to close an adoption.   Run-ins with the police, active addiction, inappropriate gifts, uncomfortable situations, angry family members, criminal activities are all reasons we hear for closing up relationships.  My kids first parents live complicated, confusing, difficult lives.  That I do not deny. And I love them. 

I love them because I see in their eyes the beauty that is my children.  I see that with a different life and different choices and different supports they could have and would have and most importantly SHOULD HAVE been safe parents to our children.  I see pain and broken hearts and hurting people.  And I see parents.  Parents who have little to give other than love, and that's ok with me.

These complicated, difficult people who make horrible choices in many areas of their lives treat me, and our family, with respect.  I don't know why they do, but they do.  So I trust them to love their children, our children, my children within the boundaries that are safe.  And they do.  And if ever we are not treated in a why I wish we were, I forget easily, forgive quickly and explain endlessly our boundaries.

Yesterday, after all the craziness of puppies and police, I watched my two year old be snuggled by her other mother.  The woman from whom she inherited her beautiful smile and striking eyes.  The woman from whom she inherited a curiosity that cannot be stated.  The woman who created her.  And that woman, that mother, said over and over again "I love you!  I love you!  I love you".

My two year old who can't sit still longer than 40 seconds may not value those words today, but I know she would one day feel their absence intimately.   She may never know what it costs both of the mothers sitting in that room to forge a relationship together, but she will know she was loved deeply by both of us. 

And that is a good enough reason for me.