God worked fast for us!

I spoke with the girls' social worker today and she mentioned that the little boy we'd interviewed with was just starting pre-placement visits.  WOW!  Our daughters have been home over a month and HE'S NOT HOME!  I hate the waiting, it would have been VERY hard for me to wait this long. . . I'm so glad God just slam dunked this one on us!

Spidey is doing amazingly well.  He's gone from failing grades to A's over the last two weeks.  I think it clicked. . . suddenly he thinks doing well is important!  He even used some of the test taking strategies I gave him.  He's also pretty much being more mature in general.  It's wonderful and we're praying it lasts!  Don't get me wrong, he was a pile of giggles when Bubbles (blow6) peed on the floor by her bed, with a great big grin and way too much excitement, but he's ASKING to read, he's STUDYING without prompting and he's just doing what he SHOULD most of the time.

Aquaman is vacillating between good behavior and out-of-control-I-need-attention behavior.  Tonight was hard for him.  Overall he's doing well, and seems to be coming into his own.  He's been growling at people.  I was telling him to stop until he said, "but MO-OOO-OOOM, I'm mad and I'm growling so I don't hit anyone."  Growl away, little one, growl away!

Blow5 is still superhero nameless.  It'll click one day, but for now she's blow5.  She's getting with the program and responding very well to us.  She's a smart girl and I know she needs much more stimulation than I'm able to give her yet, but I'm seeing glimpses of what will be.  She tries awfully hard to be a good girl!

Bubbles is just a delight.  She was grumpified this morning, but snapped out of it quickly.  Our favorite time with her is when she's just gotten out of the bath and her hair is dry.  Her long blonde hair flies behind her as she flees in an attempt to avoid clothing.  It's HYSTERICAL.  She's talking more, and she's downright funny. Here's a conversation we had this weekend when Bubbles and I were alone:
"Mommy, POOP."
"poop?  Did you poop?"
"yeah."
"OK, let's clean up, no stinky girls."
I changed her diaper.  No poop.
"Honey, you didn't poop!  Oh well, let's eat dinner."
"Mommy, POOP!"
"Do you need to poop?"
"NO.  POOP diaper."
"I don't smell poop, did you poop your diaper?"
"NO.  Sissy did it.  Sissy poop diaper, Mommy."
"Honey, blow5 isn't here, she did not poop your diaper."
"yeaa-aaah, SHE POOP DIAPER."
She laughed hysterically, then blamed each brother for the non-existent poop.

Silly girl.

it's been a month!

Hard to believe the girls have been home a month.  It's been crazy, hectic, insanely busy trying to sort out how to parent four superheroes.  Part of the craziness is the normal stuff, and part is the emotional ups and downs of kids who have traumatic pasts.  Blow5 is 4, but think she's 24.  Bubbles (blow6, from the power puff girls), is quite 2 and quite girlie.  Spidey grins with pride at his big brother ness, but he also gets quite irritated at the rambunctiousness of 2 and 4 year olds.  Aquaman vacillates between anger at sharing and having to tow the line more and joy in big brother hood.

If I can figure out VERY specific routines and train all four of the kidlets into those routines, we'll be just fine.  Well, if that happens and if two of our kiddos start sleeping through the night. . .

the girls are home!

Our two pink superheroes arrived yesterday!  It's been a whirlwind week of getting ready, driving, meeting, introducing siblings and welcoming them home.

I need names for our darling girlies.

Let me describe them.  I have a few ideas, but I'd like to hear what those of you who read this think before I decide.

A is a 4 year old bundle of energy.  She has a huge vocabulary, wants to do what is right and is very bold.  She's a hot pink patterned kind of girlie girl.  She's drawn to cars, fire trucks, and is a bit rough and tumble, though she's also very delicate.  I'm pretty sure this one can hold her own almost anywhere.

B is a 2 year old who, I'm quite sure, channels Dianna Ross.  Her blonde, curly hair reaches her waist.  Her favorite word is "no," but she says it with a smile (or a fake pout).  She loves dolls and anything light pink.  Her vocabulary is stunningly broad for a girl who speaks in one word sentences!  She's much neater than her hurricane sister, and plays for long periods of time.  Who has ever heard of a 2 year old playing (and singing) with Mr. Potato head for over a half hour?  And play doh?  Well, all four were very sad they had to put it away for dinner.

So, now that our superheroes number FOUR, we need names!  Spidey and Aquaman depend on your help!

Leave a comment with your ideas!

TIME TO ANNOUNCE!

It's time to figure out TWO superhero names, that are PINK!  I'll want to get to know them a little bit, but they're going to be home SOON!  That's right, a 2 year old girl and a 4 year old girl are joining our family and we're over the moon!

I'm so stinking excited!

I don't know how to explain the last few days.  whirlwind doesn't begin to cover it!

There are MAJOR changes coming in my life, that I'm starting now and I'm so happy, excited and blessed it's not even funny.  No, it's not a new child, but it IS related to kids.  I'm going to start training!  AND I'm working with our church on some foster/adoption/parenting type stuff.

God is moving quickly, He's put awesome people in my life with beautiful hearts, who are pushing this along.

PRAISE THE LORD!

Nos CAN be good!

The phone rang.

"How are you today?"

I told her I didn't know, she needed to tell me.

It was no.

Yes, I cried.  But then I started listening to what she said.  I even called back with a few questions.  The bottom line is that empty arms are filled, he has an amazing home and we have social workers who like us.  They're keeping our homestudy in their top drawer.

L was so positive and complimentary.  She was so dear.  We don't feel like a second choice, we feel blessed and loved.

So, no new son, but that's ok.

the first day of first grade, second day of second grade!

Veggie tales seems right today.  Aquaman strutted off to his first day of first grade!  It SHOULD have been his second day, but the power was out yesterday, so today is the first day.  He was quiet and sure this morning, got ready with NO FUSS.  His big brother, however, must have had a case of the nervous nellies.  Spidey was reluctant and very cranky.  He didn't strut, he walked slowly.  Gosh, I'm praying school suddenly becomes OK for him.  Two years of "I don't want to go to school" already, but this year's teacher, I have hope she'll turn it around for him.

I miss my boys.

Seven hours of Quiet.

It's TOO quiet.

Maybe soon we'll have another superhero to fill that silence???

In the meantime, I'm going to clean.  Things will stay where I put them for SEVEN HOURS!

and we wait. . .

Since our interview yesterday we have driven an hour and a half back to the Supergrandparents' home, packed up, loaded up the Superheroes, driven 2 1/2 hours home, had dinner, tucked in bed anticipating the first day of school, been woken up by a severe storm, then by the phone ringing to say there's no school on THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL!, dropped the superheroes off at a friend's home so I could rush back for a meeting, had said meeting, picked up the Superheroes, went to the park for a picnic lunch and a play date,  settled a few skirmishes, watched tv, went to karate and came home.  Oh, yeah, I went to the grocery, too, and fed the kidlets.

You'd think I wouldn't have time to obsess or worry or convince myself that either I was dreaming and we didn't have the interview or I'm so totally inept at social cues (as is Superdad and our Social Worker) that we misinterpreted what was happening.  Yeah.

Monday seems to be an eternity away.  Yes, more than 24 hours have passed, but they have crept and we have more than 72 of those little things left knowing we are a family of four, praying we become a family of five.

I don't feel like we can prepare to have the child until we have an official match, no matter how promising it looks.  I WANT to, but it just seems wrong . . .

So I'm planning and praying (well, begging) and wondering if it's all a dream I'll wake up from soon.

quickie, more info later.

We had the interview.  It went amazingly well.  Now we bite our nails until Monday.  We'll know one way or the other then. . . but we're feeling VERY positive!

ugh. Superdad is positive, I feel like a knife stabbed my heart.

A few weeks ago the whole family stopped by a Target a few hours away to get football tee shirts (it's not a popular team here, but it is where we were).  I bought a shirt for Spidey and one for Aquman, then lost the bag. We found it today.  Superdad was being SUPER and putting things away for me.  He extracted the shirts and a third shirt fell out.

There were no tags on the shirt.

We don't remember ever SEEING the shirt.

It's not on the receipt.



Sigh.  I said, "How do I take it back with no tag and no receipt?"

Superdad replied, "It's the right size if we get the child.  I say we keep it."

He's feeling positive, I'm feeling like there's one more reminder should we get a no.  I'm feeling a horrid nag at my heart, an ache that I want filled.  I'm feeling guilty that I am not looking to our Lord to fill it with Himself, but with a small child.

Sigh.

I really don't like waiting.

the giggles of boys

Yesterday Superdad and I took Spidey and Aquaman to Chuck E. Cheeses.  Superdad had taken the afternoon off because, well, he missed us.  We splurged and bought wayyyyy too many tokens.  Our little superheroes gleefully used those token on all sorts of games and rides.  They pretended to eat pizza.  Their giggles and smiles filled the air as we threw balls, raced cars, and generally overdosed on the bleeping blinking whizzing whirring fun.

After we'd exhausted our token supply, I used my super shopping powers on them.  YES, a MALL across the street!  Those who know me well know that I have specific superpowers when it comes to shopping:

The power to locate the nearest mall is the first of odd powers.  My aunt had the same power in regards to candy stores, so it must be genetic.  I've been known to pull off a random exit in Wisconsin, only to see a mall looming ahead.  Put me anywhere, my superpower directs me to the bliss of indoor shopping!  We call it my mall homing device.

Once the retail extravaganza is located, my second superpower kicks in.  Parking Karma makes it so that, if all in the vehicle believe, I find an absurdly close parking space.  It does not matter how many competitors for spots are circling or already placed, an open spot, close to the entrance of my desire, miraculously opens at just the right time.  Superdad did not believe for a long time.  However, he's seen it happen too often now, and all the doubt has been erased.

Inside, I have an uncanny sense of Mall directional abilities.  No matter how large the mall, no matter if I've never been there before, I know where each store is located.  It must be related to the mall homing device, but I'm never quite sure how.

Lastly, I have the power to find the deal.  I've scored incredible deals in my life!  I'm sure it's inherited from my father, whose ability to locate a deal is beyond comparison.  I have the light version, his is full strength.  So, a $1,500 leather jacket?  Oh, it just so happens to be on sale for $120!

Being Supermom has deprived the world of my amazing abilities.  I can no longer shop for hours at a time.  All day excursions are a thing of the past.  No browsing through the merchandise sipping a coffee for me!  Now it's shopping like a man:  know what you want, get in, find it, and get out.  Sigh.  It's the price I pay to enjoy my superheroes.

However, yesterday I inflicted the superheroes (including a very reluctant Superdad) with my amazing abilities.  Remember, there was a MALL across the street from Chuck E Cheese's.  It pulled me with a magnetic force not known to my men.  They had no chance.  (I found shoes at 75% off, by the way).

Inside the mall we wandered a bit.  The superheroes were restless after their electronic infused hours, so we ducked inside the Disney store.  Oh heavens, there, sitting quietly on a shelf, was a stack of Perry the Platypus.  At least a dozen of them.  Aquaman , in particular, has an insane love of poor Perry.  I called him over.  I called a second time.  The child finally wandered to me, asking "What do you WANT, Mom?"  (quite obviously disturbed at my interruption of his inspection of some trinket).  I handed him a Perry.  As I handed the stuffed creature to him, I squeezed the middle.

BLLLLLLLLLLLLAAATTTFFTT.

Yup, a brilliant fart sound emerged.  In case you've never met a I'll-be-six-in-3-days boy, they LOVE fart sounds.  Complete adoration.  The noise summoned Spidey, who, at 7 1/2, has perfected the adoration of rude sounds.  Even Superdad wandered over (I guess you don't get over it at 36, either).  There my two boys squeezed Perry the Platypus at each other with giggles of glee.  Poor Superdad squeezed and squeezed, but no sound came out.  He declared the Perry he was holding defective.  I took it and farted in his face.

I walked a bit away, watching my boys giggle up a storm.  And I could SEE another child with them.  I could see a three way rude sounds festival amongst my sons with Superdad, slightly confused, overseeing.  Oh the sweet sounds of giggling.  Oh the adorable snort that escapes Aquaman when he giggles a bit too much.  The mischievous glint in Spidey's eyes as he realizes yes, this is a mom-approved activity.  Such a bitter sweet moment for me, the shadow of a third child cast on the joy of my two, very real, very here, children.  I pray that soon it's not a shadow, it's a reality.  I pray that my boys have a younger brother to giggle with, to teach to read, to protect, to enjoy!

some worries alleviated, but not the biggest one.

I'm writing this as my 7 1/2 year old makes breakfast for himself and his brother.  He's even being THOUGHTFUL!  He has changed the cup twice for his brother (it was the wrong color, sigh), he offered milk, threw trash away, just did a BANG UP job making instant oatmeal (gotta love Trader Joe's!).  Knowing my two superheroes are old enough to truly help, not "help" as little ones do, sure does make life with three kidlets (or four) sound easier.

The biggest worry?  We won't be matched with the one we want.

I'm too attached.  I want this kid.  Badly.  The kidlet seems so perfect for our family.  In my human mind, it would be cruel of God to dangle a kid like this so close to us and then yank that child away from our lives.  Without meeting the child, my heart is ready to love again; my heart has already expanded to include blow5.

Yet other families have an interview for this child.  Other families most likely WANT this child as strongly as we do.

Sigh.

All we can do is PRAY!

breaking hearts.

I really dislike having my heart broken, but my heart doesn't shatter the way a kid's can.  

Yesterday morning we received the Child Inventory Study for the little we want.  The inventory is a document that summarizes the child's life.  Some of it is not too exciting to read, legal proceedings, immunizations and whatnot.  Most of it, though, is VERY relevant to raising a kidlet.  The document tells you what that child is up against, what their home life with their birth family was like, what the mental health background for them and their biological relatives is like, any disabilities they have, allergies, diagnoses.  

Our job is to read the document carefully and figure out if we can parent the child.  Interviews go both ways, the social workers figuring out if we're the right family for the child and us figuring out if the child is the right one for us.  The inventory provides an incredible amount of information and questions arise from reading the document.

After reading about this little one, I called our social worker.  I tried to get some questions out, but mostly I just cried.  Luckily, my social worker can handle it and the boys couldn't hear.

See, I was reading about this child and I may as well have been reading about our sons.  I know how much hard work this little one is going to need to be OK.  Having fantastic foster parents is a huge benefit to the kiddo.  These foster parents sound just amazing.

Now we pray.  We pray that the child is meant to be ours.  We pray that if the child  is NOT meant to be ours the parents have the wisdom and insight to figure out what's normal kid, what needs a bit extra and what's really serious.  We pray that the parents adore the bejeebers out of the little one.  We pray that God protects this precious one from more harm.  And, well, we pray for all the kids in the world going through what this child, and our children, have survived.

Later that day, actually, late at night, Superdad and I reviewed the inventory together.  There are some pretty scary ideas in that document, but we don't care.  This child, well, we want this child and we feel prepared to parent.  Maybe the social workers will agree with us.

a small but BIG update!!!!!

We have an interview!

"What does that mean," you ask?  Well, it means that we made a MAJOR cut!  From however many families expressed interest in the child (it wouldn't be uncommon to have 100+ homestudies sent in), we are on THE SHORT LIST!  That means the social workers narrowed the field of potential families to 3 - 5 (or up to 10, but they're only interviewing for 3 days, only in the morning and each interview is an hour and a half or more. . . do the math).

What does that mean?  It means we have a shot at a kid.

Not just any kid, either, this kid is the kid of our dreams.

We're praying in a major way that the child comes home to us.

So, what's next, you ask?

We interview in a week and a half.  They interview the other families over the 3 day period.  Then the social workers meet and "match" the child to the family they feel can best meet the child's needs.  They call that family and ask "Are you still interested?"  If the answer is yes, the family matched to the child gets to meet the child.  Then they start transitioning the child to the new home.  Well, the family CAN back out, but I doubt anyone would back out in this case.  If the family does back out, the social workers call the #2 family.

After transitioning the child, there is an adoptive placement.  Social workers visit you once a month to check things out.  After six months of having the child in the home, the family can file for finalization.  That court date usually comes within a month or so, then YOU'RE FINAL AND THE CHILD IS YOURS.

So, IF we're chosen, they'll call us the next week.  We'll set up a transition plan (usually no longer than a month) and bring our new child home.  Yup, we'd have less than a month to get our home ready for Blow5!!! I refuse to get ready for a specific child until we're matched.

Needless to say, we're on our knees, praying our hearts out!

Failure to Thrive.

Aquaman was diagnosed with inorganic Failure to Thrive as an infant.  Some basics:  Failure to Thrive means a kidlet is not gaining weight as expected.  Sometimes there are organic reasons (such as a metabolic disease).  Our little booger, though, had inorganic, which means there is no physical reason for not gaining weight.  When he came home, Aquaman wasn't on the growth charts.  At 2, he wasn't on the growth charts.  Despite the small12 month clothes (which means most kids grow out of them at 12 months, he was twice that age) we dressed him in, everything was baggy.  He had to wear overall type garments to keep them up.  His hip bones stuck out, we could see his vertebrae, there was very little fat on his toddler body.  Aquaman didn't eat much solid food at all at that time.  He drank pediasure from a bottle.

So, the kid was skinny, he's on the growth charts now, who cares?  He's healed, right?

Nope.  See, Failure to Thrive affects more than stature.  Because he didn't get the nutrients he should have at the time he should have, his brain works differently.  Well, it's more than because he didn't get the nutrients.  Let's think for a minute:  there was NO physical reason for him not to gain weight.  None.  Let that sink in.



Do you understand what happened?

So, a loss of food during infancy isn't as simple as "feed the kid."  A lack of proper nutrition (and touch) during infancy affects kids their whole lives.  They can be socially delayed, gross motor skills can be delayed (think, they're not rolling over, they don't crawl and walk at the normal times) puberty can be delayed (even if they received nutrition AFTER infancy), it can affect their cognitive aptitude and it usually sets a kid up for eating disorders.

Why eating disorders?  Well, food becomes control to a kid like that.  It's sort of like baby anorexia.  It's not about the food, it's about the deep needs every child has.  How does that translate to every day life?  There are food avoidance tactics that are pretty amazing.  Aquaman makes most picky eaters look like adventurous kids.  Being upset about anything affects Aquaman's ability to eat.

Gone are the days where I had to teach him to chew.  He now knows chewing is moving your mouth up and down with food between your teeth.  It doesn't work if the food is on your tongue, under your tongue, or in your cheeks.  However, with that knowledge came more food avoidance techniques.

When Aquaman doesn't want to eat, he has some pretty predictable MOs.
1.  Say it's not your favorite and that you hate what's being served.  This is the first line of defense, even if it's chocolate chip cookies.  After that is rebuffed, point out the little things that are wrong, too much ketchup, not enough ketchup, there's a bump, there's a chunk, it's the wrong color, it's stale, it's mushy, it's firm . . . whatever you can use to describe the food.

2.  Sit stoically.  Watch everyone else eat with a slight pout on your face.

3.  Try to fill up with liquids.  Even water works.

4.  Complain that your food is cold/no longer cold.

5.  Throw a fit.  A 20 minute crying "I don't know how to eat" while kicking and screaming, rolling around on the floor and huge tears streaming down his face SHOULD work.

6.  Say your stomach hurts (sometimes it really does, but Mom and Dad will worry and fuss over you with this one).

7.  Don't chew your food, keep shoveling it in your mouth then try to swallow.  This often leads to regurgitation, which should make Mom and Dad have pity on you.

8.  Eat the darn food so you can get up from the table.

Yes, mealtimes can take two hours at our home.  Aquaman has superhero powers with food avoidance.  Unfortunately, the commonly quoted, "He'll eat when he's hungry enough," advice does not hold true with Aquaman.  How do I know?  I tried.  For five days that little bugger lived on 5 bites of food a day.  I set out his favorite foods, didn't try AT ALL to get him to eat.  He started getting squirrely early on.  By the third day he was having incredible problems concentrating.  I finally broke down and sat him at the table when he could barely stand up, said he was dizzy and wanted to sleep all the time.  He felt better as soon as he ate.  Imagine that.

See, his food fights are not about me, they aren't about food, they're about controlling his life and feeling loved.  When Aquaman is worried about anything (gosh, there's a fly in the house, I'm starting a new grade, my shoes aren't green, a leaf just blew past), he stops eating because that is within his control.  When he's feeling like his world is spiraling away from him and his needs aren't being met, well, he stops eating.

So, just meet his needs, right?  Then this will all go away.

Sure.

No problem.

Well, maybe one or two little bitty problems.  His body is 6.  His cognative skills are older than 6 (but I won't get him tested 'cuz who really cares, so long as he's OK?), his social skills are about 4 - 5, his emotional skills are about 3 - 4.  Let's translate this.

While playing with his brother, Aquaman wants the BLUE car because it would go so well with the yellow car.  Yellow and blue do make green, after all.  However, his brother is playing with said blue car, and is in the midst of loading and unloading a very important load of imaginary weaponry (or toilets, depends on his mood).  Aquaman says, "hey, I NEED that car, give it to me."  Spidey says, "NO.  I AM PLAYING WITH IT NO WAY NO HOW."  Aquaman reaches to take it.  Spidey resists, ends up pushing him.  Aquaman runs to me, crying "Spidey pushed me."

I can either hover and pop in immediately, saying, "Dear, if you want the blue car, you need to either talk to your brother or wait your turn.  Why do you want the blue car?"  to smooth things out before the hitting begins.  Or I can wait until he's reaching, then say "Dear, your brother said not now, you need to wait your turn,"  OR I can sit back, watch the events occur in their predictable fashion and either reprimand them BOTH for using their hands and not their words or ignore the slight skirmish.

Not a big deal, right?  Sure, until it's happening 200 times a day.

Sure, until his friends don't want to play with him because he doesn't play right.

Sure.

He tries so hard, he does what he understands, but he just doesn't get those social things as well as some kids.

So, welcome to a bit of Failure to Thrive.

the roller coaster continues. . . ON GOTCHA DAY!

Four years!  Our amazing sons have been home for FOUR YEARS!  I still look at our sons with awe and amazement. . . these little ones are OURS to raise, OURS to enjoy, OURS for a lifetime!  The miracle happened, we became parents.  Just gazing at them can bring tears to my eyes.  I'm rather attached to them, I do believe.

Four years. . . four years ago we thought Aquaman was retarded.  He had 7 words.  Today he says things like, "Mom, how does the piston work exactly?  Which lever do you use and how does it connect to the piston?"  or "I really don't think Superman and Batman know each other because they're just pretend.  They are not real, it's costumes."  We haven't had a pediatric neurologist appointment in 3 1/2 years.  His brain works so fast he can't slow down!

Four years. . . four years ago Spidey wouldn't smile for us and was a year behind in almost every area (including the playground skills!).  Today he grins at me and says, "I'm glad you're my mom" or giggles with his brother over the word toilet.  Today he's amazing at sports and reads above grade level.  He's so busy joking around he doesn't take time to do his work!

Four years.  . . four years getting to know these amazing little boys who constantly amaze me.  Four years of tucking them in, asking how their day was, feeding them, training them and playing with them.  Four years of measuring them against their height the very first day they came home.

Obviously, it's a special day for us.

And I found out today that we're not out of the running for another kidlet who just reminds us of our boys.  Yes, he looks like them.  Yes, he has some of the same issues they had/have, but it's more the spark and our gut reaction to his picture.

We thought it was over weeks ago.

It's not.

So we're back on our knees, begging God for this little one.  I was begging God to make sure his family adored him and knew how special he is, but now I'm begging to be his mom.  I'm begging to bring a sibling home to the boys, another son for my husband, I can already hear his laughter, see his mischief and predict how they'll all gang up on me.

I thought it was over.

When we interviewed for the boys I was SURE a foot in mouth comment eliminated us from the running.  God used that comment, though, and they became our sons (mostly because of the comment, ironically, go God).  I'm praying history is repeating itself and my conviction that he's not ours, my grief over him, is the unnecessary grief of a mother who does not yet know she's a mother.

Did I mention that I hate waiting?  And that this is a roller coaster?

We should hear if we got an interview (which would mean we've made the short list), in the next week or two.  I pray.  I pray REALLY hard we'll find out we did.  And that we interview and it's an easy choice for the social workers to send this boy home to us.

Then our gotcha day will be one bigger, one happier, one more!

MOM YOU DIDN'T DO IT.

Today it was all my fault.  It's always the mother's fault, right?  But some lessons were learned, I do believe.

It was my fault Spidey had to study his addition.  I mean, the fun way didn't work, so now we have to try and memorize.

It was my fault he wandered away from us in a store.  The first time he whimpered, "Mom, you walked away from me.  I was looking at a toy,"  I smiled and answered, "I'm sorry, dear, I told you we were in a hurry and trusted you were behind me."  The second time he accused me of heartlessness I said, "Excuse me sir, I already told you we're in a hurry and you need to stay with us.  I'm sorry you chose to go another way.  You can be responsible for seeing us when we're in front of you."   He sulked, but did not wander again.

We settled back into the mom-mobile for the trek home.  Superdad was driving.  Before we left, we'd adjusted headrests, acquired ice for water that had warmed up a bit, made sure toys were in reach, ensured the bathroom was used, draped blankets on little bodies, and generally made sure they were comfortable.  Sitting in the passenger seat I opened a book to read.  For once I was reading just for fun, no parenting books in sight!

A little voice chirped, "Mom, you don't LOVE us.  You're READING.  If you LOVED us you would talk to us, NOT READ."

Huh.  Who knew?

I placed an old receipt in the book, set it down and said, "I'm sorry, I'm taking care of myself.  I love you very much, reading a book doesn't mean I don't love you, it means I'm taking care of me."  I picked up the book, opened it to the marked page and resumed reading.

A wondrous thing happened.

The kid started to draw and to play with his brother.

He did test the boundaries of talking back an hour or so later, but for the most part he took it all in stride.

That boy has me wrapped around his little finger.  I wonder how he knows I love him when he's off playing with a friend?

ssshhhhhh i have a secret

My secret is NOT about kids.

My secret is NOT a bad thing.

It's a really fun secret and I'm totally excited.

But I'm not sharing yet.

HA!

adopting a dog vs. adopting a child

Superfriend and her family are in the process of adopting two dogs.  Lucky pups, with the pesto she makes, I wish she'd adopt me.  Well, the pesto, the costumes, the vacations, the neat ideas to get her kids involved in writing and reading, how she teaches her oldest to play solitaire . . . (my own mom is pretty cool, but the costumes, the pesto. . . sorry mom)

Now, Superfriend probably had a fairly short application, she just has one home visit and three references (one is her vet).  I highly doubt they had to give their finances in triplicate, get fingerprinted or have their doctor say they are fit to parent two rambunctious pups.  One thing struck me though:  the person in charge of placing the puppies CALLED.  She called within an hour or two.  We had letters sent, but no phone calls were made.

Hmmm. . .

She'll also get the traumatized pups (just like kids in the foster system, the dogs Superfriend and fam are adopting were through trauma) within a week or so, at the longest.

Hmmmm. . .

Why doesn't it work like that with waiting kiddos?  I mean, of course, once we've been fingerprinted, you know our entire family tree, the doctors and vets have been checked with, etc. . .

Why do those kids sit and wait while dogs are joining happy families?

Every parent should take foster classes once a year or so.

Whilst Spidey and Aquaman frolicked with grandparents this weekend, Superdad and I attended classes to be able to foster.  We sat through those same classes just about 4 years ago.  Same videos, same handouts.  You'd think we'd be bored silly.  I mean, we've heard it all before, yadda yadda yadda

We weren't bored.  Heartbroken, but not bored.  We were both just heartbroken at what happens to some kiddos.  We're heartbroken at the HUGE hurts they have to endure.

This time it was more personal.

We live with two kiddos who were hurt like that.

This time was more interesting.

The class was small, with an interesting mix of people, a teacher, an engineer (OK, two engineers), a doctor, parents, soon to be parents. . . and they all opened their mouths.  Each brought a different perspective, a different layer.

I love the trainer we had today.  Not only is she just plain nice and cute, she's a wealth of information with an easy way of getting people involved.  She keeps us on track, yet answers questions.  No one seemed intimidated.  No one seemed like this was just what they had to sit through, it was personal and real for all of us.

As we sat there, hearts breaking, all we wanted to do was get to our sons.  We just wanted to hug, kiss and THANK GOD we have them.  But for the grace of God, we are not those parents, those parents who rule the roost with intimidation, control and a total lack of skills.  How is it that I was born into a family where my parents knew how to raise me, who knew I'd need to learn how to think, need to know what I was good at, need to know all sorts of things AND need their comfort and protection?

A FIRST!

Last night Superdad and I took Spidey and Aquaman out for ice cream.  We'd told them they could order whatever they wanted because, well, I made a dinner I knew they'd balk at and wanted to give them motivation. It worked!  We thought Spidey was going to get a banana split, but he got his first double cone instead, he was awfully cute with it!  Aquaman forgo the ice cream for a chocolate donut with chocolate frosting (ahhhh kid after my own heart) and then begged for OUR ice cream.

Moms don't share chocolate.  Well, this mom doesn't.

So, the real fist wasn't the double scoop cone.

Afterwards we decided to drive around and see if we could find something fun.  We ended up at one of our favorite parks, one I rarely take the kids to because line of sight is difficult there.  The kids have problems playing when they can't see me, so I make it easy and avoid places where views are blocked.  We parked and started toward the gates.

Spidey and Aquaman ran ahead whooping, hooting and hollering with glee.  We finally caught up to them happily playing on a police car and a fire truck.

We then wandered over to the sand pit and made sand castles.

What a nice, pleasant evening, and how fantastic they ran ahead!  I know most parents may not appreciate that particular first, but our children were consumed with glee and it was FANTASTIC!

Moms of two boys ramblings

We had three playdates yesterday.  Well, two playdates and a quick dinner outside the dojo, but I'm counting that, too.  The first playdate was with one of Aquaman's classmates'.  He and his little brother are a ton of fun and I like the mom, too.  I don't know her very well, but she seems quite cool.  She's a fireman, by the way, how awesome is THAT?  Then we went to karate, had dinner with Superfriend, Buzz and Legomaster.  After dinner we zipped to the park to meet Spidey's best friend.  Spidey's best friend and little brother are so fun, and their mom is one of my best friends (ranking up there with Superfriend).  The dads even get along quite well.

Of course, I realize, most of my friends have two boys, both boys around Aquaman and Spidey's ages.  There is a certain dynamic in families with two sons and no girls.  Boys feed off eachother.  They interact a certain way.  I'm not sure what having another boy does (we do have a friend with 3 boys), but having a girl definitely changes the atmosphere.

I love our life, that's no secret.  I love our family, our church, our home and our friends.  Well, our home irritates me, but I have hope for it and at least it gives me a project.  I love that the superheroes are growing and thriving.  I love that we go play with other families and no one is left out (except for the random mishap).  I love that other moms I'm friends with GET that brothers hit eachother on occassion, that they think saying "pee" is funny and that they really can't find a darn thing.  I love that I have friends who can say "Oh, Jim Bob is acting JUST LIKE Spidey" or "Remember how I told you I thought it was odd Aquaman is doing that?  Well, guess what?  Little Billy is doing the exact same thing.  Hmm, must be a boy thing."

How would another child change that?  Will our friendships last or are they rooted in how very much we currently have in common?  Will I need to make new friends because the dynamics of our family change so much?  And, WHY didn't I think of this before?

I do have some friends with different set ups in their families, some with one child, some with girls, some with more kids, but those aren't my core friends, they aren't the massive support of my two boy families.

Sigh.

two quick things

1.  I'll fiddle with this bloggie and make it prettier, I promise, just not right now.

2.  was planning this post:

I don't know what happened to Spidey.  For the past week he's had his nose in a book.  Three months ago the kid was on the floor writing in torturous thoughts if we even suggested reading for 15 minutes.  He finished TWO books today!  WOWZAS!  I'm not complaining.

Aquaman, for his part, had regressed in his reading ability.  Yesterday I got smart (it takes me awhile) and asked why that boy wasn't reading.  He said, "Mom, if I go to first grade they won't care if I fall."  HUH?????  I assured him his teacher would care, his friends would care, the nurse would care, the recess proctors would care and I WOULD CARE.  Suddenly that boy can read.

Go figure.

Those boys confound me (in a very good way).

Hello!

Thanks for following me over here.  I've started a new blog for rather personal reasons; all I can say is PRAY they don't explode all over creation!