Why North Dakota and other deep questions

Why can't my house be plumbed with laughing gas?

2012-01-11T17:11:00.000-06:00

Two out of the four kids are crabby. I'm crabby too and since I'm home with them all day long, maybe I'm rubbing off on them, or vice versa. Who knows. As usual, Jerome is his usual, happy self.

Today Jerome had to go and have a baby tooth pulled since it refused even my intensive efforts to remove it 'naturally' and the permanent tooth was half way in behind it. While they had his mouth open they decided to fill two small cavities he's had since coming home. I was a LOT concerned about home Jerome would handle the 'gwo piki' which is 'big needle' in Creole. He's not a stoic little guy when it comes to blood, needles or any kind of pain. How he survived 4 or 5 years of his life in an orphanage is beyond comprehension given his kind, sensitive nature.

Before I blather on about his teeth, last week he went for a cleaning and the dentist did confirm that based on his teeth he does appear to be at least a year to year and a half behind what his birth certificate says. Our orphanage had to randomly make up a birthdate and birth year when they found him at about 2 years of age so instead of Jerome turning 9 next month as his birth certificate states, we tell everyone he's turning 8. I guess it would be closer to tell everyone he's just a good solid 7 year old give or take a couple months. Confused, yeah, him too.

The peds dentist also confirmed that he has Hutchinson teeth. If you don't know what that means, lucky you. Hutchinson teeth is what develops in a fetus when the birth mother has Syphilis. That particular venereal disease affects a developing fetus in lots of ways, but the most visible are the teeth. Fortunately Jerome doesn't have any heart, brain or bone diseases, he just has the yucky teeth. Once he gets all his permanent teeth, we'll probably have to have some significant dental work which would include crowns, veneers, implants and braces. Oh golly, good times ahead!

Since the moment we read Jerome's bio in 2007 we knew he had been found by our creche with active Syphilis and it didn't deter us from loving his sweet little soul. He was treated with 30 days of antibiotics and the Syphilis was cured. However we always wondered if he had contracted the disease in utero from his birthmom or if he had been molested by some sick bastard. That thought always left us feeling violently disgusted and murderous so it came as a great relief to find out that he had congenital syphilis.

We wonder if his birthmom even knew she had Syphilis. It's a funny disease. After the initial exposure and sore goes away, the person remains asymptomatic for years and years. It's likely she'll live for sometime before the disease that's been lying dormant rears its ugly head and begins to shrink her life span.

But boy oh boy, did I go way off track here. All I know is that if I had the house plumbed with laughing gas, I would be one happy momma and have 4 happy kids. When they hooked Jerome up to the Nitrous Oxide, he must have felt like he was floating because I kept having to push his legs down. It was so weird. He just kind of bent in half from his hips and kept his feet pointing at the ceiling. He also looked a little like Stevie Wonder with the head bob thing going on while watching the Disney Channel. I really didn't care since he was dealing with it so well.

I bet if I went into the custom home building business and plumbed each house with laughing gas, I'd be the wealthiest person on earth. Seriously, who wouldn't want their household of kids...especially teenagers...in a state of perpetual happiness and mellowness? I must be the smartest person alive!

I'd like to take the credit, but I can't

2012-01-07T21:57:00.000-06:00

Madison is smart. Darn-tootin' smart! She is enrolled in 10th grade at the age of 14 and is doing well. She is using the University of Nebraska's online high school curriculum and I like it since it will provide her with a high school transcript from an institution and she is held accountable for all of her work. She takes tests thru a proctor here to ensure no cheating and must be self-motivated and diligent in her work.

I would like to take credit for her innate smarts, but I can't. In that area I must acknowledge that she gets her ample brain from her birth parents, Angela and Darryl. Now each of them will argue that her smarts came from them, but either way, she's a smart cookie. However, I digress.

All this means she'll graduate a year early. While we have a plan for her gap year which includes traveling abroad and visiting friends in New Zealand, it really brings to light that the kid will be heading to college sooner than later. HOW IN THE HELL DID THAT HAPPEN? I've been looking at colleges on line and almost made a rosebud in my panties. Hello? The tuition's are hideous.

Madison has always told me she wants to go Ivy League. Harvard to be specific. I honestly don't know if that will play out, but I've learned in regards to my children to never say never. If she can get admitted, i suppose we'd do everything in our power to get her there. She would like to be a veterinarian in addition to a Gran Prix dressage/ jumper equestrian. Add all those words together and it equals........2 bazilliion, gazaillion, majillion dollars.

For all the days I've belly ached about my kids and homeschooling and my expanding waist line...or lack of a distinguishable one anymore...I'd reverse time and go backwards if I could. Now I've got a kid who's actually earning high school credit (after skipping 9th grade altogether) and is beginning to look at colleges. Whoever said that brilliant nugget of wisdom about having little kids=little problems and big kids=big problems....was a flippin' genius. Thinking of my kid leaving home gets me giddy, and yet leaves me sick to think about her leaving the nest. I also throw up in my mouth a little thinking about trying to pay for college for her, and the damn horse she wants to haul with her.

How in the hell did I get to be old enough to have a kid old enough to be a sophomore, let alone the mother of a kid surfing the web for universities? Dear God, I don't think I could wear one of those dippy shirts that says "Proud mom of a fill-in-the-blank college student!" Hell, I still picture myself wearing my sorority sweatshirt, passing on food and choosing 'liquid' nourishment, and trying desperately to not get caught doing the walk of shame. No, this can't be happening. I refuse to be old enough to have a daughter in high school. This is wrong.....all wrong.

My new blog

2011-12-28T13:22:00.000-06:00

I invite everyone to hop on over and check out my new blog. The new blog http://paradiselostinturbinewind.blogspot.com will exclusively deal with the impending wind turbines and the effect they will have upon our way of life.

Conquering the mental fears

2011-12-16T17:19:00.000-06:00

Physical therapy was brutal last Wednesday. Since my leg felt tight, which means it is scarring down as expected, they had me side stepping over cones. Just so you know, it's the sideways motion that puts all the stress on the MCL and side stepping was definitely physically painful, but even more so, it was mentally painful.

I've been experiencing some pain in my knee around the medial line, or joint between the tibia and femur. The therapist thinks it's most likely cartilage scarring that I am feeling and not my damaged meniscus. All I know is that I actually did work through the pain of it at therapy and was able to push ahead and complete all the exercises.

I left therapy, donning a pair of jeans and strapping on my leg brace, Marc and I ventured into Walmart. Never in my life did I think I would celebrate walking into Walmart. For me, yesterday was a physical and mental achievement. It's been 7 and a half weeks since I wrecked my knee and I have reached my goal of going shopping in a store by Christmas.

To prove to myself that Wednesday's achievement wasn't a fluke, I headed into town with 3 of the 4 kids today. I drove as it had snowed about 2 inches and the roads were a smidge icy, otherwise I would have let Madison drive. Anyhow, I managed to get out of the car and into the store on the icy, snowy pavement without falling and commenced with shopping. I felt like Sheena, Queen of the Jungle after conquering this battle.

You know, I still walk with a pronounced limp and a gimpy kind of gait, but I'm grateful for being able to ease some of the load from Marc. He's been a Super Trooper these last 7 weeks. Not only has he taken almost everyday off these last 49 days, but he's picked up all of the household duties. Today when he called from work to see how things were going, he said that his work day is MUCH easier than my days and he isn't nearly as wiped out as he was doing my chores at home. It's good to know that he now has a full appreciation for everything I do here to keep us living life as picture perfect as a Home and Garden magazine. Sheesh, about time he lived my chaotic days!

I sure hope Marc picks something up for dinner on his way home. I'm whipped from shopping! I love being back to 'almost' normal!

Milestone

2011-12-10T16:00:00.000-06:00

Well, hobbled into a store today and pushed a shopping cart. One milestone down a gazillion more to go. I can now walk about 50 steps without using a crutch at all. It's not pretty, but I.CAN.DO.IT!

I tend to move very slowly and must consciously think about the mechanics of walking with the right leg, all the while holding my right arm out at my side in some freakish wing-like display. BUT. I. CAN. DO. IT!

I might get to Wally World tomorrow, but today I ventured into Tractor Supply. It was a small enough store for me to make it across the parking lot and the store is small enough to maneuver, so although it wasn't the store of my choosing, I've still done it.

Just had to share that at 6 and a half weeks, I am putting 100% weight on my injured knee/leg. YES!!! And for any cradle Catholics that may follow this blog, I have something to share soon regarding novena's and saints!! What can I say? I'm a practicing Lutheran with a devout belief in asking for the intercession of saints. HUGE believer!

F-bomb to the rescue

2011-12-06T17:20:00.000-06:00

When I started this blog in 2008, I originally intended to vent about the frustrations involved with our adoption of the two little boys from Haiti. It was my sounding board to express my grief, frustration and ultimate joy in the adoption process. It served as a venue to meet new friends and to commiserate with people who were stuck in the same boat.

Over time, it has morphed into a blog about the oddities in my life. I've addressed issues dealing with raising four black kids in rural 'white' North Dakota. I've belly-ached and celebrated the joys of home educating the kids. I've shared all the weirdness that is MY life.

The last 6 weeks I've done nothing but complain about my MCL knee injury. Not that I'm counting, but it's been exactly 6 weeks today. The first 4 weeks were relatively easy, physically and mentally. All I did was sit around on the couch with my leg locked in the straight position and was not allowed any weight bearing. Week 4 they began to allow me to use my leg and put about 50% of my weight on the leg. Last week they knocked me down to one crutch and almost 100% weight. It took me until Saturday or Sunday to really begin walking on using a normal gait and to make an effort to not lean on the one crutch. I went to today's therapy with trepidation.

I knew the expectation was to be sufficiently strong enough to throw away the remaining crutch and walk unaided. What a load of horse poop! While I am happy my MCL seems to be scarring and tightening up nicely, per the PT, I had to emphatically stress that I know my limitations and my knee is not strong enough to stand on alone. I demonstrated how I'm having to physically force my leg into a straight position when standing as it has a tendency to flex forward. That is now causing pain in my hamstrings. Oh friggin' joy! Nonetheless, we forged ahead and did some 'Old lady' exercises in the hallway which provided some entertainment for the old farts in the therapy center. At one point the PT assistant had me standing facing the wall in the hallway taking itty-bitty side steps which hurt like a totally dirty MOFO! Then to complete the humiliation she had me use my one crutch, lift my right leg up to my waist and then place it down in front and then hold my left leg up like a flippin' stork. I think it was about right now, that I may have shouted the f-bomb as I felt my leg burn like hell and feel really weak.

I'm not sure if the old farts around me heard my expletive or not as they were in various states of their own personal torture, but screaming that word, did seem to impart that I was adamant about my knee's limitation. My personal torture session ended fairly quickly and I left with instructions to continue exercises on my quads and to 'wean myself off my crutch.' Oh yeah, right! I might as well just spend the day walking like Igor in Young Frankenstein.

So my goal now for next week is to be able to walk without a crutch at all. Quite honestly, that scares the hell out of me. I guess I'll feel more confident and comfortable doing that as I stretch my abilities and find success in some accomplishments.

I never intended this blog to be all about me....well, at least not all about me with an injury....but this is the state of my life right now. So as my life has evolved, changed and tossed me unexpected challenges, I guess I'll continue to share the unusual happenings of my world. Now, if I can just get back to normal chaos someday soon, I'll be extremely happy....most of the time.

Dreams of pushing a shopping cart

2011-12-02T15:58:00.000-06:00

In my continuing theme of lamenting about my knee injury, I will one again bore the two people who still read my blog and complain and moan about the healing process. I've learned a lot about myself during this injury and healing process, mostly that I am not patient at all.

I returned to the physical therapist on Tuesday and was pleased to learn that my injured knee is continuing to heal and is scarring down and tightening up. This is all good news, but the flip side of the good news is that I must push ahead and step outside (no pun intended) of my comfort zone with my knee. I was told to use only one crutch and begin to bear almost full weight on my right leg. This is scary stuff. Five weeks ago when I injured it, I couldn't stand with any weight on my leg without my femur flopping to the inside of my knee by about 7 cm. Wickedly gross stuff.

Now I'm supposed to stand and 'trust' my knee to support me. I get pins and needle like shooting pains through the MCL portion of my knee that remind me it still isn't like it used to be. I've been told that it will take a full year for the scar tissue to mature and for the knee to be as stable as it once was. While my physical healing is progressing, my psychological healing is taking longer. Every time I take a step now, I am acutely aware of where I place my foot, and what it feels capable of bearing. I must be super careful about not twisting or rotating on my right foot as that will cause the knee to twist too.

OK, let me just cut to the damn chase and say it. I'm friggin' scared as hell to begin using the leg again as I worry that I'll injury it again. I know the pain it caused and I really don't want to have to feel that again......EVER! See, mentally I'm a basket case. Even though I'm a nervous wreck, I am pushing myself to do just as the PT told me to do. Next Tuesday I return to the PT and if it's continuing to heal as expected, they take my crutches away and will ask me to stand like a stork, bearing all my weight on the bad knee. OH MY GOD, this scares me.

How do I get beyond the fear of re injuring my knee again? I am so impatient to get back to my normal full-steam-ahead pace of life, that my mental fears hold me back. I can't trust my knee yet and still I dream about the day I can drive to the grocery store and push my overly-burdened cart thru the store with great vengeance.

Pathetic! My great motivating dream is to push a cart thru the damn grocery store. Holy Toledo, I need a life!

Nuttin' new

2011-11-18T18:11:00.000-06:00

I went to my weekly physical therapy appointment last Tuesday and left in great disappointment. Mr. Studdly, AKA Mr. PT informed me that my knee is still healing and is not tight in full straight leg extension. At 30 degrees of flexion it feels as tight as my left knee but since it's still loosy-goosy in the straight position, he won't allow me to wear my leg brace unlocked or to bear any weight yet. POOP!

I have some more involved exercises to do to strengthen my knee, but they hurt like hell. Now I actually don't know what hell feels like, but I can now describe it as a burning ache that radiates to the deepest recesses of my knee. Sometimes when I am trying to bend my knee it feels like someone tied knots in my ligament and as it stretches the knots get pulled over each other. Yeah, not a cool feeling especially after having seen my ligament on the MRI and seeing how it looked like shredded chicken meat.

I go back to the physical therapist on Monday morning and then I see the ortho. I am hoping like heck that my knee has tigthened up enough that they will allow me to start wearing my brace in the unlocked/flexed position and will let me start putting weight on the leg. I know the ortho told me that by 6-8 weeks my knee will be as scarred down and as tight as it will get. I just hope that it gets as tight as the left knee and I will not need major reconstruction to tighten the MCL. I'm not really worked up about needing arthroscopic surgery on my meniscus as that should be relatively easy compared to the damage I did to the MCL, and it can wait for several months as I rehab the ligament.

I'm bummed as I sit here, watching holiday plans take shape around me. I won't be able to prepare, cook and bake our Thanksgiving dinner, nor will I be able to participate in Christmas shopping in stores. I'm having a major pity-party for myself and would love to have company. I just want to get up and resume my normal life and would love to see some forward progress of my knee healing. Out of this experience I have learned I am not patient, nor happy to sit idly by and watch life happen around me. I have to get back to living soon. My expanding waist and butt can't take much more self-soothing of the Schwan's ice cream kind.

The necessity of freshly shaved legs

2011-11-08T13:42:00.000-06:00

I saw my orthopaedic surgeon yesterday who reviewed my MRI results and explained the nature of my injury. I knew I had a grade 3+ tear of my MCL, but to see it in pictures really helped me understand exactly how and where it's torn and shredded.

I was able to see the exact spot where my MCL pulled away from my femur and could easily see that the entire length of the ligament was shredded both superficially and in the deep layers. What isn't great to see is that my medial meniscus was damaged from the rotation of my tibia and femur and will most likely need surgery after my MCL is completely healed. He explained that by 8 weeks we'll know how much healing and scarring has occurred and that whatever joint stability is present then, is most likely how much I'll ever have. He's hopeful that with proper rehabilitation I will have a fully functioning MCL and hence a 'normal' knee. Once he assesses my knee progress at 8 weeks, he'll begin discussing my probable menisci surgery which he anticipates as a fairly routine arthroscopic procedure with minimal recovery time.

I had physical therapy today which was, let's just say, interesting. The therapist is a rather good looking guy which is why no matter how much it hurts to stretch, I must shave my legs before any session with him. He began today by assessing my good leg and knee. Seems that I am 'hyperflexive' which explains why I can bend my knee joints way beyond straight and flat, why I can pop my hips out of place and my creepy elbows that bend in a freakish way. Anyway, after establishing that my joints are loosy-goosy, he had me bend my knee for the first time in 2 weeks. At the start of the session I could reach 41 degrees of flexion and by the end of the session was at 46 degrees which is half way to my 90 degree goal. I was pea green scared to bend my leg. I knew my shin might just fall off or flop around, but it didn't it. What it did do, was let me know that there is a lot of healing going on in that joint. To flex my leg to only 41 degrees made me feel so wimpy. I'm so scared that I'll undo all the healing that has taken place and set me back even further than anticipated. I've never felt fragile before, but boy, am I careful with my knee. With any luck, next week he'll feel even more tightening of my knee joint and allow me to start toe touching with my right leg. WoooHoooo, I get to put my toes on the ground. Hot Damn!

I called my oldest sister last night to give her a rundown of my doctor's appointment only to have her tell me she would have to call me back as she was driving herself to the emergency room. Yep, us Heckman girls are peas-in-a-pod when it comes to injuries. Seems she was walking her dog, Buster, when he suddenly took off after something, causing her to fall and be dragged across the concrete street on her back. She has a concussion and a hideous head wound, but with God's help and 40 Irish Policemen, she'll mend too. So that officially makes 2 out of the 3 of us Heckman girls with dog related injuries. I wonder what my middle sister, Kathy will have happen. Seeing as she is decidedly NOT an animal lover like Nancy and I are, I can only imagine that she will have a Jimmy Choo stiletto high heel accident. Time will tell, but things tend to run in 3. This time I wouldn't mind if things quit at the terrible two's.

What lessons are to be learned by this?

2011-11-02T17:09:00.000-05:00

I'm a big believer in living life and learning lessons from those experiences. Of course, hindsight is always 20/20, but upon reflection I can almost always recall having felt gut instincts or feeling a sense of intuition that I ignored. This instance is no different.

8 days ago I stuck my leg out to protect the powercord and laptop from being catapulted to the floor and ended up with major knee damage. Oddly enough, right before I stuck my leg out, I had a sense of deja vu( for lack of a better description) and had the fleeting instinct to keep my legs curled up on the couch. I ignored my gut instinct and am now left with a complete MCL tear. Not only is my MCL torn completely thru the deep and superficial layers, but it is also pulled away from the femur. Wait...in addition to the MCL damage I also have meniscal damage. Seems that will actually require some surgery to 'clean up' the pieces that are just hanging around in the joint now. So, for the next 3 weeks I am to continue with this hideous leg brace and have ZERO weight bearing. After 6-8 weeks, the doctor will re-evaluate how much healing has taken place on my MCL and then plan to salvage the meniscus.

What have I learned from this lesson? To always listen to that little voice inside of myself and not ignore it. If I had listened to that instinct 8 days ago, I would be writing about the expense of buying a new laptop. Boy, do I sure wish I was bitching about that now instead of being confined to the living room couch and using crutches to get to the bathroom.

I believe in intuition. If only I didn't have to learn it in earnest the hard way.

Craptastic October

2011-10-27T15:51:00.000-05:00

Some seasons in life are crappy. Everyone has a period (or two or three) of life where everything seems to be going wrong. At the other end of the spectrum is the time in life when everything is just hunky dory! I am most definitely mired in a craptastic period of life which I will call the orthopedic phase.

It started at the beginning of Craptober when the horse smashed my bare foot causing me to fall over and bruise my scaphoid bone in my wrist. They at first believed it to be broken, but numerous follow-up x-rays revealed a bone contusion. My sesamoid bone in my big toe is still sore and a little purple, but the hideous shade of green and yellow has faded. Our fun continued when we took Thomas to an ortho in Bismarck who diagnosed his right knee as having a completely torn ACL. His crappy recommendation was to wait 6 years and then have corrective surgery. Until then we were supposed to keep him calm! Yeah, right! Keep a 13 year old boy calm. That guy was smoking the funny weed!

We took Thomas to a Pediatric Orthopaedic Sports Medicine Specialist at Sanford Health in Fargo. The doctor there manipulated his knee and happily proclaimed that his ACL felt totally normal and intact. We had an MRI and then consulted with the doctor immediately afterwards where he showed us the proof that indeed, the ACL was 100% normal. He did notice that Thomas has loose joints to include his knee cap and suggested some exercises to strengthen his quads which would in turn, help tighten the knee cap. We drove home happy as fat cats with that news.

The appointment with Thomas in Fargo was Monday. On Tuesday evening, I added to the orthopedic needs. I was busy minding my own business, just sitting on the couch with the laptop on my lap, surfing the net. Kitty and Bunny were romping thru the house and it crossed my mind that the dogs might catch the power cord for the laptop which would cause yet one more broken computer in our household. No sooner had I thought about that scenario than Kitty came running by and my instinct was to extend my right leg off the couch in an effort to stop her from yanking the power out of the computer. My leg extended alright, but Kitty kept on running, catching my right ankle causing my knee to act as a pivot. When I looked at my leg, it was pointing a different direction than the upper part of my leg. It was hideous.

I saw an ortho at a different clinic here in town than where Thomas went and I had gone for my wrist, and I really liked the doctor. He was able to easily move my femur to the inside of my knee by 7 CM which is FRIGGIN huge! It hurts like H.E.L.L and I am now wearing a most uncomfortable leg brace from my ankle to my thigh. The good news is that a complete grade 3+ tear of the MCL (medial collateral ligament) usually heals without surgical intervention. The bad news is that I'm still waiting for my FRIGGIN insurance to pre-authorize my MRI so they can determine if I'll need surgery. Because of the extreme laxity of the knee, he knows I have severed the MCL but needs to know if it also pulled away from where it attaches to the femur and/or the tibia. There's also a chance I ripped the ACL. If those things are determined then I will need surgery to reattach everything since I have nothing left to hold my knee together.

I am most definitely not an over achiever in my life, but in this aspect I seem to have exceeded all expectations. The one thing the doctor said to me that made me laugh was that he said this is one injury you don't get by sitting around on a couch. HA! I showed him! Not all MCL injuries occur in highly trained athletes. They can also happen to middle-aged, home educating moms, who happen to be surfing the couch!

This body was not designed to motor around on crutches. My uncoordinated gate on the crutches is proof of my 'non- athlete' status. I am in a boatload of pain and imagine it will continue for some time. Well, it has improved some since yesterday when the doctor was examining it and moving what's left of my knee around. I actually screamed out when he moved my femur to the left of my knee. Not a pretty sight and not a pretty feeling.

Until I get the MRI, which I hope is sometime in the next week, I am living in limbo. I am supposed to have PT but am a little uncertain if I can handle it before getting all the shitty news that the MRI might give me. My knee is scattered and so is my brain.

Craptober cannot end soon enough. I'm ready to move on to the happy phase of life which is supposed to follow all the crap. Every cloud is supposed to have a silver lining and I sure hope that holds true for my life right now.

hunting and pecking

2011-10-08T18:54:00.000-05:00

I'm typing using only my left hand and it's gosh darn difficult. Yesterday didn't go as planned and i ended up at the urgent care clinic. let me just say that no good deed goes unpunished.

Madison brought josh, our 24 year old horse up to the house and was screaming for me to come look at him as he ad a large swelling on his back. I told her i'd be right back out as soon as i put my shoes on, but stopped,and figured i'd just have a quick looksie. Number one rule around horses is to always have shoes on and i broke that rule.....and paid for it.

I touched the sore spot and Josh splattered promptly smashing my bare foot under his hoof into the very hard concrete. I recoiled with my foot lodged under his ample hoof and fell over smashing my right hand and thumb. Madison drove me to urgent care where the x-rays show a crack in my navicular bone in my wrist and a crack in my sesmoid bone in my foot. i'd be on crutches but i can't since my arm is in a splint until i can see an orthopedic surgeon on Tuesday. It seems the bone in my hand has poor blood supply and these fractures frequently require a screw to make it heal.

So Thomas sees the ortho for his knee on the 24th and i see my guy on Tuesday. I bet we'll get a few looks walking into the clinic. Maybe we'll get a two-fer deal on our surgeries?

excusenthe typos's but hunting and pecking sucks, but I'm stocked up on pain killers!!

It's official. It's a torn ACL and bruised meniscus

2011-10-04T16:22:00.000-05:00

Thomas had his appointment today with the orthopedic nurse practitioner. She maneuvered his leg in ways that made Marc almost vomit. She twisted and contorted his skinny minny leg every which way but behind his ears. He also complained of his hip hurting so that was x-rayed as well.

We knew sommin' was up when the actual orthopedic surgeon came into the room to introduce himself shortly after his x-ray was complete. He proceeded to twist and jerk and pull on Thomas' leg all the while making guttural sounds like a fat, happy pig. We heard a lot of umph's, and a lot of uggggghhh's. Thomas made no noise other than to tell him when something cracked, popped and snapped. The real doctor, not the nurse practitioner who I actually liked, looked at us and pronounced that his knee is extremely unstable and loose and he has a completely torn ACL. He almost announced it in a way that made us feel like we should be proud of our kids youthful accomplishment.

The doctor told us that surgery at this stage of the game is highly discouraged as it would interfere with the growth of the leg as the surgery would involve messing with the growth plate. He also said that due to the nature of a young, teen aged boy and his ability to use common sense with a replaced ACL, the re-injury rate is enormous. His recommendation is to wait for surgery until he is through his growth phase and his decision making ability is better and he is approximately 19. HELLOOO! That is 6 friggin' years away. He wants me to institute a swimming regimen and weight lifting program to strengthen his quads and hamstring.

Modern medicine?? Is this the best you can offer my son. His knee literally blows out sideways when he over flexes it or twists or heck, even runs slowly. So for 6 years I am supposed to tell my very active son to use his critical thinking skills, weigh the pros and cons of his intended activity and then proceed with caution. Get a friggin' grip. This from a kid who can't think far enough ahead to realize poking a beehive with a stick is probably not a good idea.....especially with a bad knee and a quick getaway needed!

I'm a big proponent of second opinions, so guess where we're headed next Monday. We have an appointment with a Pediatric Orthopedic Surgeon at Children's Hospital in Minneapolis. I think I'll feel much better hearing this doctor's opinion. If it jives with what the doctor here said, well then great. We'll do our best to keep Thomas from taking unnecessary chances with his knee. But if we hear a vastly different opinion, I'm inclined to follow the doctor at Children's. We've had some really great experiences with the doctors' at Children's and I have every reason to believe this experience will be as educational and comforting. Knowledge is power and I fully intend to be as informed about pediatric ACL ruptures as one can be short of medical school.

Nothing is ever easy or simple

2011-09-29T12:59:00.000-05:00

My eye is even more lovely than it was yesterday. The lower eyelid is swollen significantly and has now moved low enough to encompass the entire under eye area. Yep, it's one fine looking mess. I head to the opthamologist today at 4 and am hoping he tells me it something simple to take care of and not some rare, exotic, deadly disease. See. I'm just a LOT of a hypochondriac.

Thomas and his knee are causing us a little bit of a logistical headache. When I phoned the orthopedic clinic yesterday, I explained that the pediatrician wanted him to be seen by an orthopedic surgeon due to her suspicions of a torn cruciate and/or meniscus. The young man taking my phone call told me there was an opening with Dr. XYZ on Tuesday at 10AM. Great, and I took the appointment. Today I got on the computer to have a little looksie at whom I was entrusting my son's future mobility to, and was shocked to find out that the 'Dr.' was actually a nurse practitioner. Now I have nothing against a nurse practitioner and have actually chosen to see one as my primary in the past. However, when I request a doctor, I expect to be given an appointment with a doctor and not a close second.

Thomas also carries the Sickle Cell Trait which is half the genetic component of Sickle Cell Disease. Having Sickle Cell Trait is fairly inconsequential in daily life and is only really important during extreme heat and exercise, high altitude hiking, and of course procreation....but that's a ways down the road yet! The most critical aspect of SC Trait is knowing this and relaying the information to a doctor before surgery. SC Trait means that half of his red blood cells do not carry oxygen efficiently through his body and this affects the way he handles and processes anaesthesia. This was very carefully explained to me by the pediatric anaesthesiologist at Emanuel Children's Hospital in Portland when Thomas had emergency life saving surgery at 9 months of age. The anesthesiologist was emphatic that Marc and I understand this and to always impart this knowledge with doctors before surgery.

When Thomas needed surgery soon after we moved to Bismarck, I shared my concern that he have an anesthesiologist familiar with SC Trait kids. The doctors reaction left me cold and Marc, Thomas and I left his office immediately. The doctor scoffed at my worries and told me that putting them to sleep was always easy. Really, no duh! It's the waking them up part that worries me. We took Thomas to Children's Hospital in Minneapolis and had a wonderful physician and had a very comforting, reassuring discussion with the anesthesiologist who once again, validated my concerns about the nature of SC Trait.

As I type, Marc is at his office trying to schedule an appointment for Thomas at Children's Hospital in Minneapolis. We need to have him seen by a surgeon and to establish the relationship with a physician that can provide the surgery at a hospital familiar with kids with SC Trait. The anesthesiologist at Children's have been wonderful to Thomas in the past and I have ever hope that their skill will meet the level I desire for my child.

I am so frustrated by the medical services here. I am also immensely humbled that while I sit an complain about my frustrations, I can still pick and choose which doctor and where to take my son for treatment. It's so sad to realize that just 500 miles from the tip of Florida, people are dying everyday because they do not have access to a doctor and simple medicine. The people of Haiti know what real frustration looks and feels like. I have very little room to complain right now.

I am grateful that we are able to provide the best medical care we can and that we have options. So many in this world do not. That's a reality that breaks my heart.

Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to the orthopedist we go

2011-09-28T17:00:00.000-05:00

Thomas has been complaining of his right knee hurting for about 2 weeks. Twice now, his knee has given out and he has fallen while walking down the stairs. Yesterday at soccer, he stopped playing to rest it and then continue on.

Thomas has a fairly high tolerance for pain. He's just plum stoic. I took him to the doctor's office today after we finished school. Since we didn't make an appointment with our pediatrician, as a walk-in, you see the pediatrician on call. She's a nice, YOUNG gal and gave Thomas a thorough going-over. He actually exhibited pain when she flexed the knee and twisted it. Ah ha!

Off we went to x-ray. I just got the phone call that as expected, the x-rays were fine. Now we see an orthopedist on Tuesday. He'll schedule an MRI and it looks like Thomas may have a partial tear of his anterior cruciate and/or blown his meniscus.

He has been told to stay very INACTIVE and not move around much until then. Great! How do I keep a kid in constant motion, quiet and still? He's on some anti inflammatories and Motrin 24 hours a day now and I can only hope that he just has some soft tissue tears like muscles that don't require surgical correction.

And to make my day just a little more interesting, I woke up with my first ever eyelid stye. It's on my lower right eyelid and I look a little dopey and maybe even a little like a battered woman. I can only hope the swelling goes away before I have to take Thomas to the doctor's next week. What a pair we'll make. One limpy, gimpy kid and his mom with a puffed up, red eyelid!~

Nouns and Verbs

2011-09-27T12:26:00.000-05:00

My sweet baby boy, Jerome just about killed me today with his school work. As an English language learner, he still struggles to understand some of the fine points of our language, as do most native English speakers. English is a complex language with lots of messed up rules, and exceptions to the rules.

For the past week or so, I've been sensing that he is just guessing at whether or not a word is a noun or a verb. So today I made up a list of words from his spelling words and had him sort them into piles; one for verbs and one for nouns. The first card was 'chin' which he methodically agonized over. He repeated the word, chin, about 4 gazillion times before announcing it was a verb. At this point I had to muffle my internal scream.

I backed up the learning train and reviewed that a noun was a person,place, thing (and am currently omitting that a noun is also an idea as it's way to ambiguous for him) and a verb was an Accctttiiiooooonnn word. I asked him if he could act or do, 'chin' and he said no and touched his chin. I pointed out that he was touching his chin which makes it a 'thing'! He finally put it into the 'noun' pile and we moved on.

Next card was drum. I had drawn a picture of a drum and was intending on the picture denoting a noun and not the action 'to drum'. He looked at the picture and loudly announced it was verb. Once again I squelched my scream and pointed out that the picture was of a drum. Could he touch it? Yes, he could. Then it was a thing which is a noun. He placed it into the Verb pile and pointed at me and said I was drumming my fingers.

If I'm frustrated, he must be even more agonized over this. He continues to smile and work his happy butt off to do school, learn and try his absolute best, but this English stuff is killing me. Is this normal for an English Language Learner? Richnigthder is doing much better at his English work, but even he still has issues with adding and 's' to words to denote ownership or plurality. For example; today he was talking about a friend named Kidane and he said, "Kidane LIKE fruit." I corrected that one person 'LIKES' but one than one person, like we, and it's 'LIKE." Tough stuff to teach someone who's only been learning English for a relatively short time. Am I expecting too much? Is my Grammarian father's intense desire to speak correctly burdening my two little boys? Maybe it's just me and I'm a total nut job.

When I hear incorrect grammar, it's like nails-on-a-chalkboard....screeching and infuriating! Will my little guys ever get the finesse of the English language? I know as a home educating mom I expect more from my kids, but am I pushing it with their English. I can't just ignore it when they make these mistakes, but how do I continue to gently correct them without them just shutting down.

For now I'm just happy that Jerome continues to try over and over and over and over and over again with a smile on his face. Noun, verb.....I know one cuss word that can be used as both and I'm screaming it to myself right now. Yep, I'm the next mother of the year!

Date night

2011-09-24T15:50:00.000-05:00

Marc and I escaped for a few hours last night. We left Madison at home, in charge of all of her brothers. She made homemade Macaroni and Cheese for dinner and scotcharoos for dessert. Given her dominatrix type personality, it wasn't hard for her to force her 3 brothers into cleaning the kitchen and doing the dishes. Hey, I really don't care how she did it. All I know is I came home to a clean kitchen.

We went to see 'The Help' and it was an emotionally moving movie. I do think the book was better, but I think everyone always feels that way. Marc even got teary at a couple places in the movie although I don't think he'll publicly admit it. After the movies we headed to Applebee's for dinner.

The nano-second we sat down, my phone started to ring. The first call was from Madison in hysterics trying to explain that Thomas had seen a skunk in our garage and he had gone outside to chase it down with his bb gun. Marc calmed that situation down and explained to Thomas that chasing a skunk is never, ever a good thought for a bunch of different reasons.

The phone rang again with a happy voice explaining that the package from http://www.hannaandersson.com/ had just arrived. I bought the boys new winter coats and Madison a pair of clogs like mine and everyone was thrilled and happy! Score one for mama! And just so you know, clothes from Hanna Andersson are exceptionally well made and last Forever!

The third call was Richnigthder complaining that Madison is working him like a dog. She had him clean a bathroom, sweep and feed the dogs. Life as a dictator must be taxing for Madison and oppressive for her minions!

The final phone call was from Thomas informing us that one of the Rottweilers had just spent an hour or so barfing on our bed. Naturally we asked why he hadn't taken the dog outside when he realized she was hurling and he emphatically told us, "Because you told us to keep the dogs inside while you're gone." The one time he follows directions and it has to be this time?

Sensing the fun of our date alone had reach it's maximum, we headed for home to deal with skunks and barf. Indeed the dog had barfed on our bed. She barfed up one of Marc's socks, a partial cow hoof and what appears to be several crayola crayons....or so the wrappers denote!

The skunk left behind a signature scent but we haven't seen his Pepe LePew butt and it better stay that way. I don't know if we can handle another date anytime soon. It's just too damn stressful to deal with the chaos thru the phone.

Rural living in an industrial zone

2011-09-22T11:51:00.000-05:00

We bought our house and 40 acres for the peace and serenity it offered. We live approximately 25 miles Northeast of Bismarck and specifically chose to live further out from the city to avoid urban sprawl, city lights and noise. Well guess what? For 2 years we have been fighting unsuccessfully to prevent an energy company from placing 66, 300feet tall industrial wind turbines on property that adjoins ours.

These looming towers will be placed approximately 1750 feet from our back door. For those of you who don't know what these monsters look like, go to thishttp://lifewithdekalbturbines.blogspot.com/. These people have been living with and dealing with the effects of turbines for several years. Our county commissioners are well aware of the data, to include the United Nations recommendations that wind turbines be place at least 2 kilometers from an inhabited structure, but for some unknown (GREED) reason, they have chose to force these turbines upon the residents of our township. Oddly enough, the commissioners are aware that 2/3 of the residents of our township DO NOT want these, yet they are forcing the will of the minority on the majority.

The property where the turbines will be placed so closely to our home is actually owned by someone who live 6 miles away. He has stated that he doesn't want to see the turbines or hear them....so I guess that means it's ok for them to impact our life and re-sale potential.

Multiple studies have shown that turbines located within 1 mile of residences reduces re-sale value by 30-50%. That's logical. Who will buy our house with the looming turbines, blinking lights, shadow flicker and constant whooshing, pulsating sound? NO ONE is the answer.

In our last ditch effort to draw attention to our predicament, NBC did a story on our family. Here's the link http://www.kfyrtv.com/News_Stories.asp?news=52386 We've been dealing with this for 2 years and it appears we have exhausted all avenues to prevent these industrial wind towers from being just outside our back door. If we had known 5 years ago that we would live in the middle of nowhere and be forced to live in the middle of an industrial zone, we obviously never would have purchased this home. Burleigh County Commissioners have chose to side with NextEra and sell out for the almighty buck......even though the majority of us DO NOT WANT THEM!

I'm seething with anger and broken-hearted to know that our quiet, peaceful enjoyment of our property will soon be taken from us. The view out my back door will forever be altered and we will be forced to live with it. We've done our best in life to provide for our kids and give them a quality of life we find enjoyable and through no fault of ours, it's being stolen. I guess this is how Democracy works in Burleigh County, North Dakota!

Someone get this kid a Valium

2011-09-21T12:32:00.000-05:00

It rained, and rained, and rained yesterday. The wind was blowing mightily and it was a rotten day for anything or anyone to be outside. The crummy weather meant Madison could not practice riding.

She awoke early and headed outside to move jumps around and lay cavaletti poles down. She was wearing her mud boots and getting stuck in the mushy mud. When I saw her saddling Ka Ching, I knew I had to intervene. I simply told her it was not safe to ride when it was still so slick and muddy.

That's when the tears started. She wailed about how she had to practice before her lesson with Karla today. My words of caution for her safety and that of the horse's fell on her determined ears. She wanted to practice come hell or high water....both of which I feel are in our near future!

Finally she relented, through tears and stomping feet and marched the horse back into her stall. I'm hoping she can focus today on trying to put the pieces together and make for a clean ride. She is such a perfectionist about riding that her anxiety is out of this atmosphere. This kid need a Valium and I need a date with Jose Cuervo!

Taking her lumps and moving forward

2011-09-20T16:25:00.000-05:00

Last Spring, Karla, Madison's dressage and jumping trainer had all the riders in her barn go out for dinner. As we sat around the table enjoying each other's company, the riders, of which Madison is the youngest, were asked to share their specific goals for the year and long range in regards to riding. Madison shared that she wanted to be the best: to have her name known in the dressage/jumping world and to win national titles, international titles and the Olympics.

This kid has more gumption that Forrest! She is determined and dedicated. Good thing after yesterday's lesson. It was a wonderful day to ride outside in the 70 degree temps and early fall sun. Her lesson got off on the wrong foot (literally) the moment she and Ka Ching began to canter. Karla asked her to canter some small 15 meter circles and Madison's were closer to 20 meters. She was even on the wrong lead one time, failed to notice it, and was posting on the wrong diagonal. All of these errors are rookie mistakes and Karla demands, Demands, DEMANDS, 110% all the time.

Her ride degenerated downhill from the opening warm ups and bending lines to the jumping. Both Ka Ching and Madison are right-handed/dominate, and both struggle to go left as easily as right. Neither of them could get a correct lead coming into a jump from the right, bending sharply and clearing the jump and landing on the left lead. Karla was yelling and I mean yelling at Madison to get it right.

Neither the horse nor Madison quit. They rode and sweat buckets until Karla could see that Madison was trying in earnest to do it as well as she could. Her eyes were full of tears at the end of the ride, yet she shook it off, and committed herself to do better on Wednesday for her next lesson.

Honestly I have to admit that it wasn't hard for me to watch Madison get a tongue lashing from Karla. Oddly, Madison has always succeeded in life at whatever she desires with very little effort. Things come naturally for her.......until yesterday. I trust Karla enough to know that she wasn't just yelling at Madison for kicks and giggles, but because she KNOWS the kid can and has done better. Jumping is dangerous and there is no room for sloppiness. At the end of the lesson, after the horse was bathed and loaded in the trailer, Madison went to Karla and thanked her. Karla hugged and kissed her and told her she expects her to work her butt off to reach her goals and she did it because she cares. Together, Karla can help her reach for the stars and in return she expects Madison to give her heart and soul to her riding and make every ride count.

Karla has put in her time in the trenches. She has her Gold medal for dressage and her daughter who's 22 just won the Canadian nationals. Her goal is to get to the PanAm games, World Equestrian Games and eventually, the Olympics! Madison wants to achieve along those lines too. Marc and I will do all we can to help her achieve her dreams and yesterday was just the first among many future tongue lashings.

I was proud of my kid and how she held it together, kept trying and is not letting it define her. From this crappy ride, I am sure she learned more lessons about life than the thousands of good rides she has had. Hopefully, fingers and toes crossed, tomorrows lesson will be less brutal. Either way, she is learning about perseverance, drive, determination and humility. All lessons I am sure will aid her in blossoming life.

Parental alone time, or lack thereof

2011-09-18T18:11:00.000-05:00

Marc and I had a sort of, kind of date today. We intended to ride our horses together after church, alone, just the two of us, but Madison some how tagged along. Three is most definitely company.

While it's not that her company was bad, it's just that Marc and I are never, Ever, EVER freakin' alone. Well I can't say never as most nights between 11PM and 5AM we are alone in our bed, but even then it's often interrupted by a kid who has a bad dream, can't sleep, has a bloody nose, has a blah, blah, blah! It's hard to have time alone together with 4 kids and a Noah's ark load of animals to care for.

Marc and I crave time alone together. We need time alone together. It's virtually impossible to discuss important aspects of life while being interrupted by the incessant demands of the kids. We need to get away and spend a few days just being Marc and Geralyn and not mom and dad. While I know we will be mom and dad until the day we die, it would be kind of nice to revisit the qualities that initially attracted us to each other. Of course, Marc was attracted to my intellect...bahahahaha....and I was drawn to his carefree, throw caution to the wind attitude....bahahaha...NOT! Initially he was attracted to my youthful zest and sorority girl giddyness and I was attracted to his pensive, goal-oriented plans for life. Um, yeah, totally polar opposites. But whatever. It's worked for almost 21 years and we are damn proud of it.

But back to the freak show we call our life. Marc and I need to find a way to be alone. We don't know how to squeeze that into our busy, warp, speed- of -light kind of life right now. Each kid is busy with their own activities and that has both of us running kids to opposite ends of town at the same times. Somewhere, somehow we gotta figure this out. I'm a nicer person when I get to spend time with my best friend and even though we cohabitat, we still are not spending any time with each other.

I don't know what the answer is. All I can tell you is that I better not have to wait until Jerome goes off to college to have a date with Marc. That's not very promising either as Jerome often tells me that he's going to live at home with us forever, to which Marc just groans and grunts. I provide the obligatory smile and hug and roll my eyes over his head because as sweet as my baby boy is....he's gotta fly the nest sooner or later....right?

Rottweilers

2011-09-17T14:46:00.000-05:00

When we dropped Madison off this morning to work at her cheese curd stand (blech again, sorry Tina), we brought the three boys and one of our Rotties, Kitty. We are used to casual and not-so-casual stares from people as a multi racial family, but realized quickly that one thing that causes more stares than usual is to bring your Rottweiler along.

Kitty is a fabulous dog and has earned her CGC, or her AKC Canine Good Citizen certificate already. She heels, sits, greets other people and dogs politely and is a sweet dog with a very waggly stub of a tail. Heck, even her eyes and mouth virtually smile at people. It was crowded and packed with all kinds of smells, people with strollers, kids running to pet Kitty as their parent's gasped in abject horror and recoiled, and lots and lots of noise. My dog is an awesome ambassador of well behaved, personable, engaging Rottweilers.

And then we saw the stereotypical ill informed 'Michael Vicks' of the dog world. There on the crowded street, stood a young man with lots of tattoos....not a judgment, merely an observation...spikey mohawk, Doc Marten kick ass boots, and of course, a poor Pit Bull on a spiked collar and heavy gauge chain as a leash. UGH! The dog looked large and well muscled and had the saddest eyes on any dog I've seen in a very long time. This guy and his dog are what those in the Pit Bull and Rottweiler world attempt to dispel as horrific stereotypes.

Any dog can be aggressive. ANY DOG! Just like any person can be mean and nasty for no good reason. Large dogs like Rottweilers and Pit Bulls can be wonderful family pets with some very specific parameters. First, a dog should come from a reputable breeder that breeds two dogs that have highly stable, well socialized personalities, and that have been screened for diseases like hip displaysia. Secondly, the owners of any large, strong-willed dog needs to be committed to training the dog every single day and exposing the dog to every possible situation you can imagine. Lastly, take your dog with you to show the public that well bred, well trained Rottweilers can be fabulous family dogs.

The guy with the Pit Bull on a chain is a disgrace and he is one guy who should never own a dog that could cause harm to any person. He perpetuates the stereotype and hurts those of us who are committed to having loving, family companions that are large sturdy, determined dogs.

I'll hop off my soapbox now and get ready to go get Madison. Her 2 days of working are quickly concluding and I look forward to hearing her complaints about the numerous morons that she encountered at the street fair. Maybe it's a North Dakota thing, but who buys a whole turkey leg and accessorizes it with cheese curds and wraps up the meal with funnel cake? I can't believe I just asked that question, when I've found a huge cardboard bin of bras and panties at the farm and feed store in town. Now that's as redneck as it gets, eh?

Maybe for added stares tonight, I'll take our other Rottweiler, Bunny and one of the Shelties. Yep, that and 4 black kids should just about do it!

Look out world, here comes my baby girl

2011-09-15T18:09:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow and Saturday, Madison will be gainfully employed. Alright, it's only for 2 days, but it's her first real job besides babysitting or cleaning horse stalls. She will be working in the Wells Fargo booth downtown Bismarck during the street fair selling Indian Tacos, funnel cake, cheese curds (Blech) and other assorted heart attacks served on a paper plate!

With her earnings, she will be purchasing a new bridle for Ka Ching. It's a used one, but falls within her price range and she will have the full satisfaction of knowing she bought it with the fruits of her labor!

Where has time gone that she is old enough to have a job?

Her riding with Ka Ching has really taken off....no pun intended. Karla believes she will be able to progress thru training level 1,2, and 3 and move into first level dressage next Spring. She adores dressage and is crazy about jumping with Ka Ching. Ka Ching is an honest jumper and gives her all to Madison. Together, they are a cute team and Madison looks forward to competing with her with great enthusiasm. My baby is growing up and sometimes I really don't like. Other times, I'm counting the days until I can move her into a college dorm!

Golly, that was embarassing

2011-09-01T11:06:00.000-05:00

Jerome had his opthamologist's and optometrists doctor appointments this morning. It's been 18 months since he had his eye surgery at the University of Minnesota and this was his final post-surgical follow up with the local doctors. Everything looks fantastic and the surgery was a resounding success!

I consumed about 4 cups of coffee while waiting for the optometrist to see Jerome and then had yet another cup of coffee while we waited for the opthamologist to do his stuff. I figure I had at least a half a pot of coffee at the doctors' office, which of course, created a need for me to find the restroom.

As we waited, we made small talk and I mentioned to Jerome that the doctor better hurry up and look at his eyes, or I was going to wet my pants. He laughed and a moment later the doctor walks in and makes the usual pleasantries. He turned to me and asked how I was and before I could give the standard response of 'Fine, thank you', Jerome interjected that I had wet my pants. My first reaction was to stand up and demonstrate that I had NOT wet my pants, but continued to stammer that I needed to go wee wee due to the coffee I had consumed in the last hour.

The doctor just looked at me like I was a mental patient, temporarily released on a day pass, and tried to focus on Jerome. Rarely am I embarrassed by something, but this one caught me. I think it was the dead pan expression on Jerome's face that gave credence to his assertion of me being a panty wetter. Nonetheless, we left with great haste and I had to suppress my desire to draw attention to my DRY pants. It must have been Senior Citizen day at the doctor's office as the waiting room was full of geriatric patients. I suppose had I wet my pants, no one would have noticed since the waiting room was full of potential bladder control suspects!

Just another day in my life!

Waiting, not very patiently

2011-08-30T16:08:00.000-05:00

Our cable tv went on the fritz last night. All of a sudden the picture just froze, and then the screen went to snow. We tried all the handy-dandy quick fixes they tell you to try before reporting the outage, and nothing worked.

Marc phoned the cable company and informed them of the problem. At 7AM I received a call from the company asking if our other services, internet and phone were working properly. Since I could barely understand the woman thru the crackle on the phone line, I'm guessing she got the point that the phone was on the fritz too. We had a doozy of a lightening storm night before last and several hits were VERY close to our house. Our nearest neighbors house was hit and their internet and power were knocked out. I'm guessing our outage has something to do with their problem.

The repair person was supposed to be here at 3PM. Hmmmmm? It's now 4:10 and not a peep, boo or holler from the company. I detest people that are late and even worse....people who are late and do not call to let you know they are running late. Hey, I have a life, however non-exciting it may be...and i still have places to go and people to see. I have to go to the feed store and get some rabbit food and guinea pig food. See. Exciting things to do and places to go.

But I really, really, hate waiting!

Everyone has a story

2011-08-24T12:38:00.000-05:00

It's true. Everyone does have a story. All stories have a beginning, a middle and a conclusion. Sometimes I feel like I have so many stories in my life to share, that I don't even know where to start. Most of us know our stories. You know where your story begins, and you are in the midst of living the middle portion of your story.

Two of my four kids have stories with a beginning. Two of my kids do not. For one of my kids, that means not knowing about the stresses and abuses he was exposed to in utero and ad-libbing the first 2 weeks of life. For one of my other sons, we know nothing about his first 3 years of life other than he was abandoned at an abusive, neglectful orphanage. For him, his story begins at the age of 3.

Of course in reality, both their stories begin before their first breath. This is where it gets sticky for me. I know one of my boys had a rough start from the moment of conception. His little developing body was exposed to substances that will forever affect the way he interacts and interprets the world around him. For my other little guy, his body was exposed to a disease in utero that had the potential to cause devastating effects upon not just his musculoskeletal system, but also his brain, heart and other vital organs. Chances are his birthmom didn't even have a clue she carried this disease. Their stories have very difficult beginnings to share with them. What's even harder is that while Thomas knew his birthmom's name and had a picture of her, her death meant he would never hear the story of his beginning from the one and only person who could tell it. For Jerome, we cannot offer ANY information to him about his birthmom or dad.

His story is unknown. I can't imagine how that would feel; to not know the story of your birth. To not know how he came to be left at an orphanage in a very dangerous part of Port-au-Prince. He wonders what her name is. He asks what she looks like and how old she is. For all those profoundly important questions, we tell him we honestly don't know the answer, but strive to give him information that makes him feel good about himself.

Today, he asked me again what his birthmom looked like. I told him I don't know, but that I am sure she had his happy eyes and brilliant smile. Other questions are harder to answer. He wants to know how old she is and where she lives now. He also wants to plan a trip to visit her in Haiti. At his age, he isn't connecting the dots that it will be impossible to locate a woman who is nameless, who left nothing behind, but an infant boy. He still enjoys making believe about seeing her someday. That's cool with us, but hurts us to know that eventually, he'll realize it's futile.

Everyone has a story. Sadly, not everyone can tell their story. Huge, critical pieces are missing. Do those missing pieces leave permanent holes in their hearts? I know for me, it would. For my boys, I'm not so sure. I know that no matter how much I love them, a piece of themselves....their beginning .... is missing forever. There are no do-overs, no second chances. You get what you get. My hope is that the rest of their lives are SO amazing, the beginning is not as important. I can never give them that part of 'their story' but hope to high heaven that the rest of their story can begin here, at home, in my heart forever.

The sweetest kid alive

2011-08-21T14:32:00.000-05:00

Jerome is the sweetest kid alive. He finds joy and happiness in the most mundane aspects of life, but when he is partaking in something special, his joy can not be contained. This picture says it all. It was taken at Haiti camp last month when he successfully climbed to the top of the rock wall.

odds and ends

2011-08-19T16:35:00.000-05:00

My life should be titled, "Odds and Ends" as it seems so damn appropriate for the craziness of our chaotic life. We seem to have our fair share of 'odd' and a lot of loose "ends" right now.

The loose ends revolve around the distinct possibility of Marc being transferred. We've been in North Dakota for 8 years now and are in our second house here. When we moved here in 2003 we bought a house on 3 acres just north of town with a gorgeous view of the river. I loved the layout of that house and reveled in it's bright interior and southern exposure. Sadly, on only 3 acres, our growing menagerie needed more space to stretch their legs.

We bought 40 acres of beautiful rolling grassland and planned to build a house, but before that happened, this house came up for sale and was on 40 acres. It's plenty big and has a nice layout, but I wasn't wild about it at first. We've been in this house since 2006 and slowly over time, we've claimed it and made it not just another house, but H.O.M.E. We finished the basement, added counter tops, flooring, barns, arena's, fencing and I now feel at home in this house. We have 2 of the worst, lousiest neighbors alive, but I can overlook them, ignore them and find joy in our home and it's setting.

There are 3 very possible transfers in the wind right now. Each of those transfers hinge on a multitude of other factors far outside our control. We understand that moving is a possibility again for our family, but this time, we aren't finding much joy in it. We've made good, life-long friends here and have become members of a church our whole family enjoys and feels connected too. Going to church on Sunday isn't just about worshipping God, it's about connecting, visiting and giving to friends and a community. I'm not sure that kind of church family will be easy to replicate somewhere else.

We've moved before and will probably move yet again. I just wish that the government would give us some clues as to the directions things are heading. Until then, we sit and wait for Marc to get that infamous email telling him he has 90 days to report to the new office. Of course during those 90 days, there's a mad dash of a house hunting trip, getting the house ready for sale and appraisals, organizing for movers, closings, kids' schooling, finding new doctors, friends, church, veterinarians, etc, etc, etc. If I had to lay money on this, with our luck, we'll move sometime in the next 8 months and inevitably it will be during a blizzard.

My ability to move spur of the moment has waned over the years. C'mon gov. Give us a clue!

Where in the world is our adoption tax credit?

2011-08-15T13:28:00.001-05:00

We live in North Dakota and our adoption tax credit is being reviewed in Holtsville, New York. Yeah, I know that makes a lot of sense, considering we originally mailed all our tax documents to California. If your brain is known to blow a fuse easily, you better not read on. It gets so convoluted that it quickly becomes as clear as mud!

Marc spoke to the gal reviewing our adoption tax credit file in New York 2 weeks ago today. She said we must amend our 2008 returns to claim the boys as dependents, even though they still resided in Haiti, were not U.S. citizens and did not have social security numbers. Because the adoption was finalized in Haiti in August of 2008, they will reduce our allowable credit to the 2008 limits, which effectively reduces our return by $1000. I guess it matters not that the boys weren't granted a visa to enter the U.S. until April of 2009, which is when we brought them home. Whatev!~

Nameless IRS employee with her thumb up her butt in New York said she could not fax us the documents we need to amend, but must be snail mailed. Great, yeah, whatever. Oh, except the mail only goes out on Mondays, and the mail had already been picked up. I SWEAR I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP! We finally received the documents, which shockingly had been filled in with the supposedly correct numbers and we just have to sign and snail mail back. Marc is mailing those off today and we should receive two separate payments; one for the amended 2008 return and the current 2010 adoption credit still owed us.

Now this is the kicker. We received the new documents that we needed to sign and mail last Thursday. On Saturday, we received a letter from the IRS apologizing for the delay and informing us that they would review our file within 30 days and would notify us of their decision. This is friggin' hilarious. Wouldn't it appear that since Marc has spoken to nameless IRS employee reviewing our file that our case has been reviewed? Hello?

The icing on the cake is that although they have reduced our overall adoption credit return by $1000, as of 2 weeks ago, they owe us $564 in interest! At the rate the IRS is working, they will be paying us in excess of the $1000 they reduced our initial return.

Sarah, hang in there. This ride is almost as crazy as the roller coaster ride to bring the kids home in the first place.

Thomas is officially a teenager today, God help me!

2011-08-14T12:36:00.000-05:00

13 years ago today we received a phone call from Winnell Bird who ran Blessed Trinity Adoption Agency in Houston. She was calling to tell me that 3 babies had been born that day and I needed to pick one of them RIGHT NOW. I heard the words, but could not believe what I was hearing. How could I possibly choose one of these newborn angels?

One of the babies was a bi-racial girl in New Hampshire, one was a black baby girl in Louisiana and one was a newborn black boy in Houston. In the 60 seconds I had to choose, I asked Winnell which baby would be the last one chosen. She told me the dark black boy would be, so that was the baby I chose! That itty-bitty baby boy, that we named Thomas has been a treasure for our family. I know with every fiber of my being, that God meant this child to be ours. He is a blessing to us and has helped us see the world thru different eyes. He has taught us so many lessons that I most often feel inadequate.

13 years ago, Thomas entered the world at 15 minutes after midnight. He has packed more adventure, joy and experiences into those 13 years than most people do in a lifetime. I love my angel for his sense of adventure, kind, kind heart, sense of humor and his ability to adapt to the chaos of our life. I can't even imagine what our family would be like without Thomas in it. One thing is for sure. Our family would have saved a TON of money on doctor co-pays and emergency room visits. He keeps life spicy and always interesting.

Happy birthday to my oldest son. I treasure you and thank God for you everyday!

4 stitches and not a tear, pout, or whimper

2011-08-07T22:04:00.000-05:00

Madison and I went shopping at Sam's Club today and only ended up filling one flatbed cart. We thought we did a great job being frugal and just getting the necessities such as Chips Ahoy cookies, ice cream bars, Ritz bitz crackers....you know....the basics! We had just checked out when my phone rang and it was Marc asking if I had received the picture he sent me.

I hadn't gotten any pics so he explained that he wanted me to look at a cut on Richnigthder's elbow he had gotten falling off his bike while trying to pull a 'Napoleon Dynamite' move. Seems my two older boys were trying to jump their bikes over some homemade jumps which were made of 2x4's, 4x4's and some rusty nails and screws. The pics would not come thru so I just headed for home as quickly as I could. Of course I instantly got diarrhea on the trip home since I let Madison drive and there were numerous construction zones to pass thru. Oh the struggles of being a mother!

We made it home and as soon as I saw his cut....actually it was more like a tear....I knew he'd need stitches. Madison unloaded the car, took the groceries inside and watched Thomas and Jerome while Marc and I headed to the ER. Of course the walk in urgent care clinic closed at 4PM so we had to go to the ER and wait awhile as there were two life flight victims of car accidents brought into trauma. Richnigthder was an ALL STAR ROCK STAR! They used a needle to numb the area around the tear and he watched and never batted an eye. Then the doctor, who looked as young as Doogie Howser, sewed him up with Richnigthder watching intently. My kid is da bomb!

We stopped at Dairy Queen and he got an extra large Butterfinger Blizzard and then pressed on to Little Caesar's for take home pizza. All I can say is that they must grow them tough in Haiti. Richnigthder is still denying any pain even though I know it must be throbbing. He made this mom so proud. Not proud because he was stoic, but because he is so thoroughly attached and trusting to know that we were looking out for him and taking care of him, even if it meant pain in the form of stitches. I love my kid for being so brave and for trusting us so completely.

Aside from the trip to the ER today and the near visit to the ER yesterday with Thomas and a possible broken nose, it's just been another normal weekend at our house. Thankfully we have ice cream bars and cookies to ease all the boo-boo's!~ Bring on Monday.....I can take it!

Adoption tax credit

2011-08-02T07:43:00.000-05:00

Our accountant filed our taxes in early March. In April we received a refund based on our taxes, but withholding the adoption tax credit still due us. They requested copies of all receipts dealing with our adoption expenses, which we promptly provided. Then they requested another copy of their IR-3 visa, which we faxed.

We received a letter in May telling us that they would review our file and notify us within 30 days of their decision. DECISION???? What's to decide? We spent gobs more on the adoption of each boy than the allowable tax refund, so what's to decide? Then in June we received a letter asking for ANOTHER copy of their IR-3 visa. WTF? Marc finally talked to someone last week regarding why our file hasn't been reviewed yet, and they notified Marc that they needed a copy of the adoption decree and a translated version.

OK, we have those documents, but that's not what is legally required, per their own damn IRS forms. Nonetheless, we faxed copies of their adoption decrees showing that the adoption of the boys was final in 2008 in Haiti. Of course, the paperwork trail wasn't finished in Haiti until April of 2009 when we brought the boys home. Heck, for that matter, the U.S. Embassy in Port-au-Prince took 2 weeks to issue their visas to travel home in April of 2009. So while the boys were legally ours in Haiti in 2008, we couldn't bring them to the United States, nor claim them on our taxes as they were not U.S. citizens, had no SSN, and were not residing with us. BUT now, according to the IRS, we should have claimed the boys on our 2008 taxes and will withhold part of our adoption tax credit until we amend our 2008 returns to reflect the addition of the two little boys........EVEN THOUGH THEY WERE STILL IN HAITI AND NOT LEGALLY ENTITLED TO ENTER THE U.S.!

Because we have to amend our 2008 return, they will reduce our maximum allowable refund to the 2008 limit which is roughly $1000 less than the 2009 allowable refund. To further complicate this, the IRS will be paying us interest on the 2008 return and on the adoption tax credit from this years return. I'm not sure how much that will be, but I'm sure it won't be as much as if we were tardy in paying them!

I'm screaming right now out of frustration and anger. How asinine to think we could have claimed the boys in 2008 when they weren't even a citizen of the United States then, nor could not legally enter our country. I can't be the only one that finds this mind-numbingly confusing.

Yeah, so we will get a portion of the refund....or so they say....within 6 weeks and the rest of the refund when we amend our taxes. Even if we get right on it and get it done ASAP, according to the gal Marc has been dealing with at the IRS it will be approximately 6 months. Hey IRS.....mama needs money!!! Send me my damn money and stop changing the rules as you go along. Kids call rule changers....CHEATERS! Quit changing the damn rules and send me my money! Mama needs a trip to the liquor store!

language disorders and other facts of life

2011-08-01T16:06:00.000-05:00

It's widely known that Thomas has a language disorder. It affects the way he hears, interprets and relays information he hears or sees. When he was 5 and in pre-K his teacher asked us to have him tested for ADD/ADHD. I found an assessment center and had him tested only to be told he did not have ADD/ADHD, but instead had Semantic Pragmatic Language Disorder.

We kind of always knew something was weird in the way he reacted to social cues. For instance, he never understood the fact that someone could be laughing with him and not AT him. He'd get all pissy, stomp his feet and yell. We also could tell that he was very verbal from a young age, but never realized his speech, while articulate, was mere parroting. He also struggled with some sensory issues that affected his ability to eat foods with different textures and to deal with/ process outside stimuli such as large, loud settings or needing to sleep with a pile of heavy blankets on him.

Thomas worked his butt off to reach age appropriate goals in Speech Therapy and Occupational Therapy. He learned how to add content to his speech, how to extract information from his brain and articulate it, and how to 'read' social cues. Perhaps the social aspect was the hardest. It was interesting to see how Madison just innately got social inferences and facial expressions and yet Thomas had to be taught how to read someones facial emotions. Weird. My hat's off to Thomas for his diligent work over the course of 5 years in therapies. While some social situations remain elusive to Thomas, he now is able to understand social parameters and gets when someone...or himself....are behaving outside of normal standards. This is a huge accomplishment.

Even though he has graduated from Speech and OT, I still see areas of struggles. The other day he had a really nice kid over to play. He has been friends with this kid for 6 years and while I see that his friend is maturing at a faster pace than Thomas, I also see that Thomas notices it and strives to behave in an age appropriate manner. Thomas works so hard to behave in an acceptable manner that is physically and mental whoops him. When his friend went home, Thomas crashed. He had a melt-down and was drained. How sad that he has to work so hard to maintain friendships and social parameters.

What's super sad about his language disorder is that his appearance to the world is 100% average. He doesn't wear a physical sign that tells the world he struggles with some issues. There are times I want to hang a sandwich board sign around his neck that announces his struggles. I worry as he gets older that the expectations of life get more demanding, he will be so frustrated that he won't be able to function. I'd love to know why he has this struggle, but I guess it relates to the poor start he was given in life in utero. My anger at the exposures he was subjected to even before his first breath is immeasurable. I'm not angry at him. I'm angry at his birthmom, but that is irrelevant now since she passed away. I'm left to guide my son to successful adulthood: one where he can navigate the world of social situations and one where he must learn to voice his thoughts in articulate, clearly understandable language.

While I know his struggles with life skills, he is greatly adept and trying to hide them from outside people. My heart ached from laughter and from pain when I overheard this conversation with his friend while driving him home. The comedy of errors began when Thomas' friend answered a question I asked him.
Me: Chris, isn't that you're cousin's house?
Chris: Which one?
Me: Your cousin, Jane.
Chris: Hmmmmm, that name rings a bell.
Thomas: What bell?
Chris: The lunch bell, idiot!

Chris is a wonderful kid, so don't get me wrong here. It was just so sad to see that Thomas couldn't follow the simple conversation and grasp the social slang of 'ring a bell'. Thomas is a very social kid and loves to be surrounded by friends, but finds it exhausting and now even he can see when he has failed to grasp a social cue or language inference. He is still able to laugh off his faux pas but I wonder how it must feel to know he missed yet another simple, social cue?

Picture this...

2011-07-26T17:41:00.000-05:00

The scene played out in the hallway on the third floor of the Federal Building in Bismarck, where Marc has his main office. He had just left his office and ran into a man that works down the hall as an assistant United States Attorney. Marc knows this guy casually and has never had a long conversation with this guy before yesterday.

Marc said that this guy initiated small talk about some governmental law involving drugs. Marc acknowledged he knew about this new law and that's when this guy shoved not just his foot, but his whole damn leg into his mouth. This guy told Marc he couldn't say what he was going to tell Marc in his office (United States Attorney's Office), but for some reason, he 'knew' he could tell Marc. He then proceeded to enlighten Marc that this knew law was "A black thing, because of Obama and that's what brother's do." He then added that drug addiction was also a "Black thing."

That's when Marc said, "Hey, you know what? I have 4 black kids!" He said the look on his face was that of someone being punched in the belly and all the air escaping leaving them suffocating and drooling. That's when the guy started checking his watch and saying he had to run, but not before Marc enlightened him in the ways of his ignorance. Marc has a little more diplomacy and eloquence in his 'chats' than I do and I am sure this guy walked away not even sure he had been made to feel ignorant, but feeling justifiably embarrassed by his gross behavior.

What bugs me most about this situation is that this man is an attorney representing the United States government. He has a picture of President Obama in the office where he works as does Marc. It's part of the respect that is given to the Commander in Chief of our country. This guy may not like Obama's policies, but he needs to be respectful and keep the derogatory slurs to himself. Hey, Marc wasn't wild about Bush as president, yet when his picture hung in his office in the Federal Building, Marc was respectful of the man and the position he held.

I guess this butt-hole guy showed his true colors of bigotry and racism with what he said to Marc in the halls of the Federal Building. I wonder how unbiased and open-minded he would be if he was prosecuting a young black man accused of drug crimes? I'm willing to bet, he would exhibit all the politically correct statements in public, and behind closed doors, berate and belittle ALL black people with the stroke of a broad brush and paint them all as stupid, unemployed dope dealers.

It's 2011 people. What's with judging people merely by the amount of pigment in their skin? Judge people based on their actions, not by their appearance.

Poop

2011-07-08T18:24:00.000-05:00

This is not a post about fecal matter, rather a post about my feelings. We heard back from GLA and found out that the two little girls from Jeremie are NOT Richnigthder's little sisters. I was so hoping that there were and we could bring them home and Richnigthder could grow up with his birth siblings.

Alas, they are not. Having faith in my heart that God knows best, I will continue to pray that his birthfamily is safe from the EQ that occured so very long ago now and that if they bring anymore beloved children to a creche, God leads them to us. I have room in my heart and home and pray that God leads us to whatever child is meant to be with us in his wisdom.

It's a small world though, as the guy that emailed me back from GLA has a wife named Cheryl who will be an Orlando Chick next March. Amazing how tiny this little planet is in reality!

Tick tock, tick tock

2011-07-04T21:34:00.000-05:00

We are counting down the days until our dear friends the Watkins family and the Dorcheus family join us for a week of fun. Next Tuesday, Mike, Tifanni and their 4 gorgeous, funny kids, invade our place. Then on Wednesday, Nate and Kristi and their 3 kids cruise on in. I am actually looking forward to the noise and laughter and occasional fight amongst the kids. Of course being dutiful parents, each of us having passed rigorous home studies for the adoption process, and have been deemed reliable, sensible, upstanding citizens well prepared to parent and guide children thru to adulthood. In order to ensure that the 6 grown ups survive the chaos, we plan to rely on proven parenting techniques that have withstood the test of time.......LIQUOR!

On Friday, our pack of wild animals will head out in caravan to head to Haiti in our Hearts camp in Alexandria, Minnesota. Friday afternoon to Sunday our families will be chillin' at Lake Geneva where the kids will swim in the lake, canoe, bike, climb rock walls, play basketball and dance till they can't keep their eyes open. The parents will of course socialize with one another, compare notes on the stuff each of our kids have broken and just enjoy being in a setting where families like ours are the norm and we don't stand out. We won't be asked probing, inappropriate questions about how are families came to be and we can just relax and let the kids have fun without feeling like everyone is staring at us.

Who knew that 2 years ago on Father's Day, we would meet two super couples at a hotel in Miami, eat dinner with them at a Cuban restaurant and then spend a couple days with them at our childrens' creche in Haiti. These couples have become important lifelines for Marc and me. I spent time with Kristi 4 months ago in Orlando, along with 67 other women and it let us spend some time realizing the complexities of our lives and how much we have in common. Tifanni and Mike have become dear, dear friends; God parent's to Richnigthder and Jerome and God forbid, our children's guardians should Marc and I die. I still marvel in awe how our Haitian children, that lived so far away from all of us, brought us all together with a common bond.

I will be menu planning tomorrow to make sure we have tons of junk food on hand, slip and slides, hula hoops, nerf guns and all the bike tires are inflated awaiting their arrivals. Naturally I will be stopping at the liquor store to pick up beverages of an adult nature and will of course, make sure I have tons of kook aid on hand for the wee ones. My kids are so excited to know that these two families are coming to visit that they are a humongous pain in my butt right now. Everyday, I get asked if tomorrow is the day everyone arrives. Soon enough I will be able to tell them that today is the day. Until then, I continue to clean and checking off the days on the calendar.

Summer sunshine, good friends, laughter and happy kids, that's what makes life worthwhile!

I can't stand the not knowing

2011-06-29T18:57:00.000-05:00

I emailed GLA to inquire about the two little girls that may be related to Richnigthder and haven't heard a peep, boo, or a holler from them. I also emailed Vivian and haven't heard back either. I can't stand not knowing if these little girls might be Richnigthder's little sisters. Even Marc is annoyed that we haven't heard anything.

If these little girls are related, we most definetly would move heaven and earth to bring them home to be our daughters. Anyone have a contact at GLA that might be able to get the answer for us?

What if?

2011-06-28T07:59:00.000-05:00

For several months now, we've contemplated growing the family thru adoption again. I contacted Vivian, AKA, Adoption Social Worker Extrodinaire, and she explained how to start the ball rolling again. Then we moved adoption plans to the back burner while we continue to wait and see if Marc will be moved again. In the beauty of his job, they have the privilege to move you in the blink of an eye. The big Kahunas are debating whether or not to close smaller offices and move all the agents elsewhere.

Decipher the last word: elsewhere often means, the border of the U.S. and Mexico. That translates to worrying about Marc and his safety, and ours too, if we move to a hotbed of criminal activity. So we have been trying to wrap our minds around the possible move and come to grips with moving from a house we've put our own touches on and now consider home. We like it here and really don't want to move again, but you have to do what you have to do. So we cooled our jets on the adoption until we figured out where we might end up by the end of the year.

Yesterday I was reading Dixie's blog at God's Littlest Angels. She wrote about some of the new kids she has admitted to her creche recently and two little girls caught my eye. Dixie wrote that two missionary aides brought the two girls to her creche from Beaumont, Jeremie because the father did not think he could care for the little girls since the mother recently died. Jeremie is the province where Richnigthder was born and lived before coming to our creche. One little girl is about 5 and named Shelley and the baby sister is about 8 months old. Richnigthder had a little sister he called (phonetically....She-lov) she would be about 5 years old now too. I put the picture from Dixie's blog up on the screen and just let Richnightder take a look. I said nothing, except if he knew her? He beamed and told me he thought that was Shelove. Of course, I have sent emails to Dixie and Vivian and am waiting to hear back. If this is Richnigthder's little sisters, then we will do everything in our power to bring these girls home.

So, what if these are his biological sisters? It means his birthmother has died, just like Thomas' which I blogged about last week. This stuff is far too complicated for a little tiny brain like mine. A part of me hopes these are his little sisters and a part of me hopes they are not. The part of me that feels relief if they aren't related feels tugged to bring them home anyway. So many kids need homes. What if no one ever brought these babies home? What if I'm not on the right path in life and doing all I can to help the orphans of the world, particularly Haiti?

What if, what if, what if?

Enough with the freaking gay bashing

2011-06-25T18:16:00.000-05:00

I am so, so freaking tired of people bashing on gays. I am tired of bible thumpers who claim to be living God's directives as dictated in the bible being malicious and cruel to people whom are simply living their lives as they feel they were born to be. I believe one is born gay. It is genetically encoded in them and that is simply how they are made, wait for it....by GOD!

For God's sake, we are not talking about pedophiles or people who are making and selling drugs. I'm talking about grown adults, who recognize and embrace who they are and do the best they can to live a life of kindness, generosity and overall, are just good people looking to have happiness and someone to love. We have quite a few same sex couple friends, Marc has several gay cousins and we also have a couple trans-gendered friends. None of these people are odd to us. They are just average people who happen to love someone of the same gender.

I am also very proud to be a member of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America. Our church has officially stated that it allows a homosexual person in a monogamous relationship to hold pastoral positions. It also openly supports people with different sexual expressions and recognizes that these people are in fact, children of God and are welcome to be members of ELCA Lutheran churches. I am proud to have a pastor that seeks to develop understanding among small, rural families, that people who are different from their definition of normal, are indeed still worthy of love, acceptance and should be free from the hatred spewed out of ignorance or religious indignation.

Nobody in this country should be forced to worship God at a church in which they do not feel comfortable, nor should they have to accept anothers views. BUT, that being said, nobody should proclaim that they have the secret key to the pearly gates. Save the fire and brimstone argument for someone who doesn't see God as benevolent. I happen to believe God will welcome all his children home upon death....even if they are gay. I have a fierce, but quiet faith in my soul and that brings me comfort. Is that faith because I adhere to the word of the bible....the book that has been interpreted a gazillion different ways by a gazillion factions....or is is because I feel so deeply that God made each and everyone of us,,,even gay people?

All I know is that in today's Christian world, gay equals bad and I find that abhorrent. I am a Christian. I am a believer in Jesus and I believe all of God's children, gay, straight, yellow or black or brown, will go to heaven. Enough with the gay bashing and proclamations that the bible says its wrong. The bible also says you shouldn't wear mixed/synthetic material and one should stone their child for cursing their parent. So put on the cotton sack cloth and gather a bag of rocks. I'm frustrated and needed to vent. It's my blog, my thoughts and my right to spew my thoughts out into cyber space. Many will not agree with my views. That's ok. Many will agree with me and that's ok too. It really doesn't matter since there are so many more important issues to deal with in this world than whether or not someone is gay.

I know. Let's talk about the million of orphans around the world who are hungry, lonely, and in need of loving arms. Or how about the despicable state of our public education in this country. Heck we could even talk about the millions of people without adequate health care in this country because they can not afford it. See, there are lots and lots of other topics to discuss that are actually important and have some bearing on the future of our country and not one of those topics involves the weary old saga of Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve. Give me a freakin' break. Give me Adam and Steve any ol' day over crabby old church ladies. At least Adam and Steve will make me laugh and we can share a laugh and a drink.

Thank God for freedom of speech where I can share my thoughts, however unpopular they may be with the Christian/moral majority.

Allegra, why must you fail me now?

2011-06-23T13:57:00.000-05:00

Our weather has sucked ginormous, rotten Ostrich eggs lately, BUT....today is nice and it is supposed to remain pleasant for several more days.

The boys are on the trampoline and Madison is practing her jumping on Ka Ching and Lucki. I just went outside to saddle up my horse and ride with Madi, but my allergies are so bad right now, that my eyes become like sandpaper, my mouth itches, I sneeze and in general am as miserable as a whore in church. With all this rain and lush vegetation, my Allegra just can't keep up with all the pollen and allergens. I just want to enjoy the nice days when the giant yellow ball of solar heat shows up and not have to lock myself inside, BOOO HISSSS!

The death of a birthmom

2011-06-20T12:50:00.000-05:00

Just the other day I blogged about the beauty and blessings of open adoptions. Our adoption story with Madison's birth and her birth parents is one of great beauty and peace. We love her birth parents and feel blessed to have them in our lives.

Thomas' birth story is a little different. His birthmom chose to not have ongoing contact with us or him, even though we desired it. We don't know why she chose to close the adoption, but we guess that it was easier on her heart to not have to think about him and picture her gorgeous son be loved on by another mom and dad. That's just a guess on our part and we could be wrong, but I know when we talked on the phone to her shortly after she delivered Thomas, she told us she was sure of her choice in us and that made her feel good. We never had any contact with her after that phone call.

Periodically I would google her and see if I could figure out where she was. She was a native of Louisiana but would sometimes live in Houston, which is where Thomas was born. Last Friday I googled her and was shocked and grief stricken to have found her obituary. I felt sick to my stomach and broke into tears. A woman who I never met, yet love her flesh and blood son as a gift from God, had died 2 years ago and now Marc and I would have to tell our innocent son.

Adoption, regardless of how beautiful ALWAYS involves loss and pain. Thomas has always grieved the fact that he did not know his birthmom like Madison does and has fictionalized the missing pieces of his birth. These things are painful to him and to us. I have hurt watching Thomas try to grasp why his birth mom didn't want to watch him grow throughout life or share in his development. I am impotent to explain why she chose to make his adoption more difficult in our estimation. Perhaps it was easier for her, but ultimately made our adoption experience with Thomas much more difficult and trying.

Yesterday, Father's Day, Marc and I sat Thomas down and gently told him that I had discovered his birthmom's obituary. He didn't know what an obituary was and when I explained it, I saw the tears pooling in his eyes. I held him and rocked him just like when he was a newborn and he wailed, sobbed and shuddered with grief. His grief is so multi-layered that I have a hard time grasping it. He is grieving for what he never knew, what he wanted to know, what he will never know. He doesn't remember her voice, her touch, her scent. He has so many unanswered questions that will remain unanswered forever. He hasn't begun to even reconcile that these are now facts he must deal with. For a child nearing adolescence, their world is confusing enough without throwing in to the mixture adoption, death and infinitely unanswered questions.

Telling him about his birthmom's death was by far the hardest thing I have ever had to do as a mother. I've heard the words from someone else's mouth telling me my mom and dad were dead and it was horribly painful, but telling my fragile son about his birthmom's death was much more painful. It ripped my heart out and made a lump in my throat that hurt so badly I could barely catch my breath. I hated the fact that I had to hurt him with this news. I hated the fact that his birthmom died and put me in this position. I know that is irrational, but her track record of making poor choices during her pregnancy and subsequent decision to close the adoption compounded Thomas' struggles and ours as well.

We went to the nursey yesterday and let Thomas choose some trees. He chose two apple trees that we will plant in our yard and create a small memorial rock garden to his birthmom's memory. He'll be able to see it from his bedroom window and I hope it provides him some comfort. I want the trees to bear lots of apples, thrive, grow tall and sturdy and be beautiful....all the same things I want for Thomas to embody in life and I'm sure the same things his birthmom wished for him.

Life can be so beautiful and yet so full of sorrow. His birthmom gave him life, not necessarily the best start in life, but life nonetheless. I am so grateful he is my son, even given his added struggles and feel hopeful that this is just one more sorrow in his life he will overcome, move forward from and become wiser and stronger. For me however, shaking my irrational anger at his birthmom's death may take some effort. I suppose my process of grieving the loss will be to let go of the anger and frustration and move forward into peaceful acceptance. I can't do anything about the situation except support Thomas and understand this may send him reeling for some time to come. Only time will tell.

The beauty of open adoptions

2011-06-18T20:09:00.001-05:00

Angela and Madison at Angela's graduation with her Masters degree!

This post has been rolling around thru my brain for at least the last 3 years, or as long as I've had this blog. As the title implies, our family finds beauty, comfort, and great love in having an open adoption with Madison's birth family. I suppose I'll start at the beginning and take everyone along on our tale.

In January of 1997, Marc and I decided the time was right to grow our family from just the two of us to adding a wee one. We always knew we would adopt and selectively chose to make our family exclusively through the gift of adoption. We chose Heritage Adoption Services in Portland, Oregon and began to accumulate our paperwork, complete a home study and attend training classes. By March we were pretty close to completing our dossier and after talking with our wonderful, WONDERFUL adoption social worker, Sue, we decided on domestic adoption of a newborn of any race. Early in March, Sue began to bug me about completing our birth parent album and because I am a huge procrastinator, I failed to grasp the subtle sense of urgency in her nagging.

For about a week straight, Sue would call and gently ask if our album was complete....or even near completion. For those unfamiliar with a birth album, it is a biography of the adoptive parents complete with pictures and letters written to a birth mom and is used by the birth parents to choose the adoptive parents. So to say the album is critically important is an understatement. It is something that you try to encapsulate your life, who you are and what you wish for their child should they pick you to parent their baby. For us, the album was a labor of love. We chose pictures that demonstrated who we were and what our lives' were like. Needless to say, our album was a mixture of humor and frivolity. We wrote our "Dear Birthmom" letter as though we were the birth parent and what we would find comfort, security and reassurance in. Ultimately, if the positions were reversed, we would find great solace in knowing our child's adoptive family, and in having contact that reassured us in our choice and in affirming our decision.

Finally on a rainy Friday afternoon, I drove into Portland and delivered our album to Sue at the adoption agency. I drove home knowing that from here on out, nothing could help us be placed with a baby quickly other than prayer. Our waiting had begun.

On Monday afternoon, the phone rang and it was Sue. She was calling to tell us that a birth mom had chosen our album and wanted to meet us. Our wait had ended! I don't remember how long it was before we went to meet the woman that had chosen us, probably several days, but it seemed like an eternity. To say we were scared, nervous, excited or sick to our stomachs would be inept at capturing our feelings. We prayed that the birthmom would like us in person and want us to parent her child. We had no idea, that the birthmom would be afraid that we wouldn't like her, or find some reason to not want to parent her child. How odd to realize now, that we both had the same emotions about meeting each other.

We met Angela towards the end of March at the adoption agency office. I don't remember fear or nerves once I laid eyes on her. The second, and I mean the very first second, I saw her, I knew I liked her. Our meeting went very well and we agreed to meet again for dinner at Applebee's in Lake Oswego. We met again and it was then, that I realized I would like her as a friend regardless of an impending adoption. Angela and I continued to do fun things for the next several weeks to include having her over to our house to see the baby's room. That was the first time she met our 3 Rottweilers, Molly, Gotcha, and Zedo. She's a cat person, so seeing 3 large Rottweilers was a little bit of a shock, and maybe, just maybe it contributed to her going into labor. It could have also been the Italian food for lunch or the Mexican food for an early dinner I force fed her.

Either way, about 11PM on April 16th, 1997 Angela called us to say she was heading to the hospital with 'indigestion' and wanted to know if we wanted to meet her at the hospital? UM, hello.......you're giving birth to our baby and you seriously want to know if we want to be there or stay home in bed and watch the Late Show?? Of course we wanted to be there and jumped in the car, ran every red light and made it to St. Vincent's Hospital in about 2 and a half seconds. She was being admitted when we got there and it turns out Angela was about to have a baby.

We wandered the halls with her to help her labor and would have been kicked out of the hospital if she wasn't in labor when we got off the elevator on the cardiac care floor and I asked what the stink was, Angela replied, "That's the smell of death!" We burst out laughing.....the three of us, one wearing a gown and in labor and Marc carrying a box of kleenex since we would spontaneously burst into tears. Angela gave birth to Madison at 8:30 in the morning, April 17th and Marc got to cut the cord and we were there to witness her very first breath of air on this planet. She was so fresh from God; a perfect, gorgeous baby girl, placed into my arms as I stood next to Angela. There we were. Her two mom's forever locked in love all because of this sweet, innocent angel sent from God.

Our relationship with Angela is amazing. Naturally we know she gave birth to our daughter, but I love her for a gazillion other reasons. I love her sense of humor, her infectious laugh, her ability to use sarcasm, her indescribable joy of life. She is very intelligent and we are immensely proud of her achieving her Master of Occupational Therapy and her dedicated work ethic. Angela is a fabulous woman and when I try to explain to people how much I love her and enjoy being with her, I'm always surprised by people's reaction to our story and open adoption. I've tried to explain that Madison was the instrument that brought us together, but that I love Angela like a little sister, a dear friend, someone whom I cannot imagine not having in my life.

Angela has been there at moments in my life to support me, that only God could have known that I would need her. Angela was babysitting Madison and Thomas when she answered the phone at our house explaining that my Dad had been taken to the hospital. She then called me to tell me. She was also there the very last time I saw my mom alive. It was her arms that held me and comforted me when I closed the door to the Alzheimer unit and broke into tears knowing I would never see my mom alive again. How could anyone have foreseen that Angela would not only have given us our first born child, but become an integral member of our family. She loves all my kids like she does Madison and treats them all like the fun auntie she is.

Madison has relished having Angela in her life. From the little things like finding out what foods you both hate, to almost killing her with sun stroke, Madison has benefited from knowing her birthmom. When I watch Madison walk, I see Angela in her footsteps. I hear Angela's voice inflections in Madison's words and I see Angela's smile in Madison's face. What tremendous gifts this beautiful open adoption has been. Of course we also have a beautiful open adoption with Madison's birth dad, Darryl, but I'll blog about him another day. Yet again, our relationship with him is a blessing and he is a wonderful, fantastic, handsome man that we adore.

For years I have wanted to share the tremendous love and respect I have for a dear friend/little sister named Angela who just happens to have given birth to my daughter. From a gigantic universe, God brought us together and gave us the gift of not only a beautiful baby girl, but also a friend whom I trust with my life. To all those nay-sayers who think open adoptions are bad news or confusing for the child, I ask you to look into your heart and see what beautiful experiences may just be waiting for you. Our adoption has been so much more than I ever imagined.

The fastest way to flush $5000

2011-06-14T10:39:00.001-05:00

Thomas had his braces removed in February. His gorgeous teeth were sparkling, stunningly straight and when he smiled they were a gleaming tribute to the money we invested in his oral health and appearance. Since February, I have developed a new mantra. At least 4 gazillion, bazillion times a day I ask Thomas where his retainers are. At this point in his orthodontic treatment, the retainers should be in his mouth 24 hours a day and only come out when he is eating or brushing his pearly whites.

Since February, Thomas has lost his retainers too many times to count, only to have them turn up in some freakish place like, under his dresser, in the pocket of his jeans, the zippered compartment of my purse, in his sock drawer, the glove box of the car, a Big Mac box, the silverware drawer, the fridge in the bar downstairs and my personal favorite, on the pew in front of us at church. In addition to losing them all the freaking time, the dog as eaten them twice. The first time, we returned immediately to the orthodontist to have a new bottom retainer made. He cautioned Thomas again about the need to keep his retainers in or his teeth would go back to their original crooked positions.

Unfortunately I was a little slow in realizing today that the snapping and crunching coming from behind the couch this morning was the dog chewing up his retainer....AGAIN! Yes, I realize that Thomas has some struggles with cause/effect behavior, predicting outcomes, and remembering things, but I am PISSED OFF WITH HIS LACK OF CARE AND THE MONEY IT WILL CAUSE US TO SPEND...............AGAIN! So in an effort to reduce my daily mantra reiteration, we are scheduling an appointment for Thomas to have at least one permanent retainer put on and perhaps a different retainer other than those Invisalign thingymabobs he's had. At this point I'd be happy-as-a -woman-with-money-in her-savings-account to have the ugly wire retainers made that he'll be embarrassed to wear!

God grant me patience. Madison gets her braces removed next month. I can't deal with two kids and lost retainers.

Addendum: 12 Noon, Tuesday

The orthodontist explained that he is too young and his teeth too freshly out of braces to put a permanent retainer on. I do have faith in the ortho and believe in his work so I will follow his advice and return for yet another impression and new retainer thingymabob made. If the ortho had young children himself, I would completely believe that the Laurie family was solely responsible for putting his children thru college.

To perpetuate the fun I was already having today, one of the Rottweilers went into Thomas' bedroom, jumped up on his bed and took a ginormous wizz! Looking at the pool of pee, I believe the mattress is a total loss and will head out shortly to go buy a new one.

No need to remind Marc, but it never hurts

2011-06-13T13:24:00.002-05:00

I saw this at Hobby Lobby this morning and knew it was meant for me. I really, really love my husband since we have lived by this motto since before our marriage. Have I said how much I love him?

Though miles separate, it's the little things that keep us connected

2011-06-07T17:56:00.000-05:00

The past couple of weeks have been weird around here. There hasn't been a rhythm to life and we've lacked a sense of normalcy. Life in Bismarck has been chaotic with the flooding and our days at home have been messed up with the lack of school.

We've had accidental injuries, changes of plans at the last minute, issues to deal with involving one of our kids and his ongoing struggles with balancing his behavior and lots and LOTS of broken things around the house that Marc has had to fix.

In a nutshell......life has sucked the past 2 weeks. Not sucked as in life or death problems, but more like the kind of problems that give you a rash or like wearing an ill-fitting bra. It gets the job done, but man, does it rub, pinch, bind and just plain old make life uncomfortable!

But today I got something in the mail that made me smile. It was from Corey and it was a lovely little note that let me know she knew my life has been out of whack for a while and she included a little button to wear. The button sums it all up. It simply says, "The older I get, the more everyone can kiss my a$$" Miles and miles separate us, but it sure feels good to know others are thinking of me and get my atypical life.

Hugs and kisses to my dear Soul Sisters. We are a unique group of women who get each other and it's good to know that although we are separated by great distances, we share a common thread and bond.

Can I Just Say......

2011-06-03T16:51:00.000-05:00

that nothing ever goes as planned. I'm willing to bet, many of you understand and sympathize.

To quote pirate Jack Sparrow, "Aaaarrrggghhhhh!"

Bismarck is flooding in historic proportions

2011-05-31T07:43:00.000-05:00

The city of Bismarck is suffering a flood something akin to a 300-500 year flood. Many homes along the river may be a total loss, but the flood isn't just affecting riverside homes. Most of the Southern part of Bismarck, including the mall, numerous businesses and homes well inland are being innundated.

Bismarck looks like a war zone. Everywhere you go, people are covered in mud and sand. The roads are closed so the Army Corps of Engineers can construct 'Hail Mary' levy's and dikes. The zoo evacuated all of its animals and sent them far away. Fire stations in the flood zone are sandbagged and levied. Grocery stores are ringed with 6 foot dikes. It's a scary situation to witness. And it won't just flood and recede, it is expected to last 2 months or more.

The problem for the Missouri River flood actually originates in Montana. Eastern and Central Montana have had astronomical amounts of rain in the last several weeks and that all drains down the Yellowstone towards the Missouri and passes right thru Bismarck. All this flooding doesn't even take into account the snow in the mountains of Montana yet to melt and rush into the rivers. Once this volume of water is released from the Garrison Dam it will reach Bismarck, and then pour thru the drainage canals and cause massive overland flooding. They anticipate the water will stay put for several months and worried homeowners are frantic to save what they can and get their possessions out.

We are high and drive at our home, but we have friends near the river that are frantically trying to save their home. We met this couple when the wife was Thomas' tutor. She's everything you picture when you think of a kind, patient, teacher who loves teaching struggling students. She and her husband have no children, are in their early 60's and have no one to help them. Our family has spent the last several days filling, tying, delivering and unloading sandbags, moving their furniture upstairs, packing up goods to be moved out to their new apartment and as of yesterday, helping building a 9 foot dike of clay around their house.

These people built their house to an elevation of a 300 year flood and never thought they would have to face an epic flood. They bought an Aquadam and although it cost them about $8000 it is leaking. Not a good time to have a leak! So yesterday, the dike plan went into effect. We head back to their place in a few minutes. The boys and Marc will be outside sandbagging and Madison and I will be inside helping frantically pack up someone's possessions.

Madison's trip to Seattle via Amtrak was cancelled yesterday because the tracks are washed out in Montana. Now Pastor Paul in his faithful sense of determination is securing a chartered bus to drag our group to Seattle. GULP! Scheduled departure is tomorrow morning......insert massive swear words and foot stomping here!

I am grateful that our family is able to help those who need it. Our backs are sore but our spirits are hopeful that we can mitigate our friends losses. I can't imagine the panic and desperation that one must feel when you know in about 72 hours the water will begin to overtake your home and you may never, ever, be able to return. Today's outside work is compounded by a high wind warning of sustained winds near 50MPH. The spirit of help is running strong right now throughout the community.

The kids are dressed and ready to begin another day of back-breaking work. We walk out our front door with a new sense of appreciation and gratitude that at this moment in time, we are not in danger of losing our home, but with a new found recognition that in the blink of an eye, we too, could be faced with a similar tragedy.

Seat o'death

2011-05-28T16:06:00.001-05:00

God help us all. Madison got her driver's permit yesterday. North Dakota seems a little (a lot) backwards in allowing children to get their permits and possibly driver's license at the tender age of 14. Insert indigestion and massive headache here.

For anyone in and around the Bismarck, North Dakota area, please refrain from walking on sidewalks. A large, white Denali may inadvertantly swerve as she gets distracted by something shiny. I jest, but it is scary to sit in the passenger seat while your child takes the wheel and drives on a 4 lane highway with a speed limit of 70MPH.

Life keeps marching on and the children keep on growing. I'm not quite sure if I'm ready for this new phase, but I guess I'll give it a whirl.

A relaxing, no bra Sunday!

2011-05-22T18:26:00.000-05:00

Today was the first day in a loooooooooonnnnnnnnnnggggggggg time that we didn't have to go anywhere or do anything in particular. To celebrate this occasion, I took a shower, got dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt and refused to wear a bra all day!!!!!

Most people in this home were grossed out by my glaring act of rebellion, but I stood firmly in my decision. I can't remember the last time I puttered around the house finishing the laundry, vacuuming, baking goodies all without having to be somewhere at an appointed time. We played hookie from church and enjoyed getting some long overdue household chores completed.

And to think I did all those things bra-less. TMI? Oh well. I enjoyed my freedom

When was the last time you went bra less in your own home and felt like a rebel?

I hate Spring/Summer colds

2011-05-17T18:32:00.000-05:00

Thomas is feeling better on his second antibiotic and is not nearly as crabby as he had been. I don't know about you, but whenever I take a kid to the doctor's office, I am paranoid that they will pick up another new virus and/or bacteria that will cause me to head back with a new list of complaints in just a few days.

I have proven this point yet again. Thomas went to the doctors on Mother's Day and then again last Wednesday. Yesterday I woke up all stuffy, but the OTC meds made me feel better. Today is a different story. I am stuffed up, with an earache and sore throat. I know I picked this gem up at the pediatricians office. I KNOW IT!

I'll tough it out for another few days before deciding if it is something more than a virus and needs medication. Until then, I'll keep plugging along and doing all the necessary aspects of life to include, school, laundry, animal care...which is not much different from taking care of the ankel-biters...and cooking. Timing of illnesses always suck. I leave in two weeks as a chaperone on Madison's faith adventure trip with her youth group from church as we head to Seattle. Wonderful. Just what I need. An entire 24 hours each way on Amtrak with 70 teenagers. God help me now!

And just for fun, the kids and I were at church all day yesterday (9-3) to help with yet another damn funeral. Enough already. When I know the funeral directors by name, it's a for sure sign that I've been partaking of this funeral stuff way too much of late. But the good news is.....the ground is defrosted and the plantings...ahem...the burials are now taking place immediately after the funeral service! YAHOO

Taekwondo

2011-05-14T15:30:00.001-05:00

Just so you don't get confused, Thomas is the black boy, second row on the right side! :)

Thomas had a big day today. My oldest son, Thomas, just went to a Taekwondo seminar with about 50 other kids and tested for his orange belt. He passed the test easily, but for Thomas this is about developing self discipline.

He has more than enough athletic ability, but it requires Thomas to maintain his focus and perservere when he is struggling. It instills a sense of respect for elders and those with higher belt colors and allows him to demonstrate good sportsmanship. His ability to perform under pressure is fantastic and it is building his self-confidence at light speed. For my son who struggles with some aspects of life, he is working his tiny tushie off to earn respect from others and demonstrate his skill and knowledge of Taekwondo.

In front of roughly 100 people, he was the first to be tested today. He rose from his spot, addressed the Grand Master with Sir and went thru his steps and kicks perfectly. Then he broke his board with a front kick on his first try. Each belt achieved by Thomas is proof that he is working his ass off to develop skills that will translate to helping him with general life skills. The diligence he shows with his effort at Taekwondo is admirable and I love him so much for trying. The success he has had is just icing on my cake!

I am so proud of my son! Although there are days his behavior and moods drive me flipping nuts, I am so happy, proud, and thrilled that Thomas is my boy!

The Help

2011-05-12T12:46:00.000-05:00

I'm exactly 98 pages into a novel by Kathryn Stockett called The Help and I can't put it down. This is a great book that deals with racial tensions, friendships and the historical truths and realities of prejudice in the early 1960's. This book is written in a free flowing manner and the dialogue is genuine. There are moments I get so lost in the vivid dialogues I feel as though I am sitting at the kitchen table with the characters. Run out and get this book today!

The infamous ice cream pie recipe

2011-05-09T12:14:00.000-05:00

This absolutely delicious recipe is from Schwan's. Let me just say it is highly addicting and this recipe is a keeper. Once you make it following the directions, you will see how easy it would be to adapt it/change it by using different flavors of ice cream and fruits!

Here is the original recipe from the Schwan's catalogue.

Summer's Dream Orange Ice Cream Tart

1 1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs
6 tbsp. butter, melted
8 cups Schwan's Summer's Dream Ice Cream, partially thawed
1 tub (8 oz) cool whip or similar
1 (15 oz) can mandarin oranges, drained

Mix: graham cracker crumbs and butter

Press: firmly onto bottom and halfway up side of oiled 9-inchh springform pan. Refrigerate for 30 minutes.

Spoon: and spread half of partially thawed ice cream onto cold graham cracker crust.

Mix: remaining ice cream with whipped topping and gently fold in drained mandarin oranges.

Pour: whipped topping mixture over ice cream and crust.

Freeze: for 2 hours before removing cake from springform pan.

Enjoy!

This just in from the land of sweet-tart sayings

2011-05-08T20:23:00.000-05:00

Marc is a sweet man, especially when he makes me an orange ice cream dream pie. My stomach feels gurgly from eating so much, but it is OH SO YUMMY! We all had seconds...maybe even thirds...maybe even fourths of this scrumptious pie and as we sat around gorging on this decadence, Richnightder asked me a question.

Richnigthder: "Mom, have I been very good today?"

Me: "Yes, you have been. Why do you ask?"

Richnigthder: "Because that's what I wanted to give you for Mother's Day."

My little Haitian man is such a sensitive, sweet, determined child and all day long he worked his skinny butt off to follow rules, avoid fights with his brothers and sister and to make my day as stress free as possible.

Ice cream pie and a sweet boy who thought of a way to make my day special.

My tummy and heart are both full.

What's Mother's Day without a trip to the pediatrician?

2011-05-08T15:55:00.000-05:00

Madison awakened me this morning with a plate full of french toast and orange juice. She stood beside my bed and roused me from a lovely slumber at a little before 6AM. The thought was lovely, but 6AM??? Ok, we had to leave for church at 8AM, but 6AM?....is too darn early.

Everyone made handmade cards which I love, and we only had 2 fights on the short drive to church, so the morning moved along nicely. Thomas stayed home because he has been complaining of sinus pressure and a sore throat for a few days. He's also had L.O.T.S of bloody noses, so I kind of knew he had a sinus infection.

You would be amazed at how many people were at the urgent care center on Mother's Day. Mostly mom's with an assorted variety of kids. Even on Mother's Day, there's no rest for the weary. Moms' work is never done. We work on holidays, weekends, late nights and early mornings. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to see mom's shlepping their kids to the doc on a holiday weekend. I am scratching my head, however, trying to figure out where the dad's were today. Why couldn't they take their sick kids to the doc in a box?

We left there with a script for an antibiotic to treat his double ear infections, sinus infection, and sore throat. Thomas was more than pleased to tell the doctor that I've pooh-poohed his complaints for several days and that he really wasn't lying! Yep, I'm sure the doctor made some notes to call social services on me due to my neglect. Whatever....I could use an all expense paid vacation!

I received a Mother's Day card in the mail from an Orlando Soul Sister and it is the funniest card EVER! The card made me laugh so hard I snorted. The card features a smiling middle-aged woman holding a bottle of what appears to be vitamins, except the name on the bottle is SCREWITOL! You get the gist now, but I wanted my Soul Sister over at The Accidental Mommy to know how much I loved it! These Orlando friends and I share some unique commonalities and I treasure our new friendships and the fact that we can still find humor in our otherwise atypical lives.

Now I've got to get Thomas off the phone, hog tie him and shove some medicine down his throat! Good times are just ahead!

Our foxy new neighbors

2011-05-05T18:10:00.000-05:00

We've lived in 5 different houses in our 20 years of marriage. That equates to 5 different neighborhoods and numerous different neighbors.

Our first house was picture perfect except for the crazy-jealous man who lived directly behind us. He had his pathetic wife come to our front door and tell me not to sit in MY OWN BACKYARD and paint my nails since it bothered her husband that I wasn't working. This same crazy man would always show up at my front door, drunk off his ample butt and threaten me. I could never figure out how he only ever did this when Marc was out of town. Hmmmmm, it turned out after Marc's Super Fly/Super Spy agency started checking on this guy and found he had tapped our phone lines. He had it set up that when our phone rang, it would ring in his house too. I suppose it helped that the crazy man had once worked for the phone company before being arrested and convicted for rape/harrassment/ terrorizing, etc. That crazy neighbor ended up spending some time in a free- of- charge housing environment, complete with free meals and a charming roommate named Bubba!! I'm pretty sure his living arrangements were delightful for him for 78 months!

Our next neighborhood was fantastic. Great neighbors who I still keep in touch with even after almost 10 years of living away from them. Wonderful people in a wonderful town. I really loved Sherwood, Oregon.

Our next neighborhood was in Bismarck, North Dakota where we found a lovely house with a super view of the valley and Missouri River. That neighborhood had some freaky people. Given Marc's position with the government, he's a little hesitant to make friends and tell people what he does. Our nearest next door neighbor just happened to have a daughter the same age as Madison. That kid was welcome to play at our house, but sadly, we could not permit Madison to go next door as the daddy was not an upstanding citizen and not suprisingly, he is now partaking of free housing and meals for about 120 months.

When it came time to move from that house, we sold it to some really whacked out, eccentric people. I knew something was weird with them when they moved into our house without permission 3 days prior to closing. Their realtor gave them the key and they just started living there without telling us...the owners....! When I found this out on the morning of closing, I flipped out and I thought the guy was going to punch me. Later that afternoon at closing, the wife of this freak did look like he had been punching on her. 3 years after we closed on that house, we were killing time in Miami waiting for our flight to Haiti. Marc was reading the online edition of the Bismarck Tribune and showed me the article about some dude here in Bismarck that embezzled almost 8 million dollars from his own company and was about to begin his extended stay in a free housing situation...(Federal Prison), and you guessed it...it was the guy who bought our house!

Now in our current house, we have some maliciously crazy neighbors. The wife in particular is plain mean and scares me as to what she will do to the kids. We just can't seem to avoid the nut-job, crazy people even living out here in the middle of nowhere. However, about 5 days ago some new neighbors showed up and just started living on our property, completely uninvited and unwelcomed. They are smelly, destructive killers and the boys are scared to go outback near our riding arena. Marc wanted to call in a 'relocation team' and have them forcibly removed to a more suitable neighborhood, but because I'm a little bit of an animal lover, I've convinced Marc to let them stay for a while.

Our new neighbors are complete foxes. Like totally! A mama, papa and 3 baby foxes are living on the edge of our riding arena, technically in our backyard. They are beautiful animals, but they have dug some serious holes in the field and I'm afraid they will be feasting on our cats soon. It's neat to see them lying around the opening to their den and watch the kits romp and jump. I just wish they would do it somewhere else. I'm feeling pretty upset that once again I have some annoying neighbors that make weird noises at night and are causing me to lose time while I sit at the window and watch their darling antics.

Watching the foxes play officially makes me Gladys Kravitz. Kitchen window, binoculars and a beer and I have become the epitome of peeping, nosy neighbors! I can't get enough of these new neighbors. Maybe it's because they are so damn foxy. Fortunately the foxy mama has just had 3 babies so she's not looking her best and I don't have to worry about Marc craning his neck to check her out!

Daddy's little girl

2011-05-02T21:58:00.000-05:00

Yesterday and today....ALL DAY....Marc, Madison and I were at her riding instructors barn to participate in a saddle fitting session. Twice a year, Madison's instructor has Schleese Saddlery come to her barn and if you choose to have a custom saddle fit session, you and your horse will be measured and analyzed for body conformation and movement.

It was fascinating and I firmly believe that anyone who rides a horse, whether for pleasure or show, should be required to participate in something like this. I learned a great deal about the anatomy of the horse, functionality of movement and the importance of the saddle fitting both the horse and the rider.

After Ka Ching was measured and studied, Denise, the saddle fitting expert, placed several custom made Schleese saddles on Ka Ching's back. It blew my mind to watch and see with my eyes, the phrase, "The horse picks the saddle." It was spot-on accurate! Ka Ching made known her dislike of one saddle by flinching, tucking under, getting squirrly, and being obstinate. The next saddle she worked 'ok' under, but didn't seem to enjoy it. Finally, Denise put on the HK, or Heike Kemmer model and Madison and the horse moved like a symphony. Ka Ching was fluid and stretched her back, reached under, and enjoyed the movement. Madison loved the saddle too for MANY reasons.

For a variety of reasons, we chose to wait until this fall to have the Heike Kemmer model saddle hand-made by Schleese for Madison to do her dressage work. Trust me when I say, it is a beautiful piece of workmanship with loads of science behind its functionality but those attributes carry an equally steep price tag....one that rivals a full year of tuition, room and board at any 4 year university!

Madison and Ka Ching were also fitted for a hunt seat/jumping saddle and found a match-made-in-heaven. She is now the proud owner of her first Schleese Saddle. A perfectly fitting saddle for Ka Ching and a fabulous saddle for Madison to begin her jumping training. Of course we needed to also buy the matching girth, stirrup leathers and pads so she is set with a complete ensemble. And to ensure Marc didn't feel left out, he got a Schleese baseball cap. Woohoo!

One thing is for sure. Madison is Daddy's little girl. He watched her ride and saw the pleasure that both she and the horse experienced and he knew he couldn't say no to his girl. I knew that look in his eye. One that said he was hiding the tear in his eye watching his baby girl do what brings her her greatest joy and seeing her excel and succeed.

I enjoyed...in a sick, perverse way... watching Marc almost cry when Denise told him that Madison has a unique pelvic structure and leg length that makes her a custom order kind of girl and definetely a not-off-the-rack kind of girl! That's my girl!!!!!

She's in bed asleep already. After we trailered home, she saddled up and rode in her new saddle, on a happy horse, outside in the glorious sun. I can think of few things that bring me greater joy than watching one of my kids thoroughly enjoying life.

Two years ago today

2011-04-30T12:21:00.000-05:00

Two years ago today, our youngest two boys came home to us forever from Haiti. Madison and Thomas went with us on our pick up trip. It is incredibly hard to believe that Richnigthder and Jerome have been with us so long. In a lot of ways, it feels like they have always been with us, and in other ways, I still judge time as before they were home, and after they were home.

They have grown unbelievably in every aspect of life. They are wonderful, delightful boys and we are enormously grateful that we get to be their parents. Two years ago today, I was bursting with joy and anticipation of knowing that when I left Haiti, I was taking them with me...forever. Throughout the 27 month long adoption journey, there were many days I doubted that the journey would ever end. I worried endlessly that they would be stuck in Haiti and never, ever come home. I cried buckets and made Marc's life a living nightmare. He always assured me that the day would come when they would be sitting on the plane in a seat next to us and we would cry happy tears. He was right.

Meeting the boys for the first time: Dec. 2007

                                            Our pick up trip: April 29th, 2009
                                             4 of the kids are mine, and Wilkenson was a creche buddy

On April 30th, 2009 we cleared Immigration at Miami International Airport and saw their Haitian passports stamped with the entry date and notation of entering on an IR-3 Visa. That was the official end of the journey for us. Their feet were on U.S. soil and they were officially United States citizens. They were home forever!

I'm going to knit a noose

2011-04-29T19:59:00.000-05:00

A large percentage of my Orlando sisters knit for cathartic reasons. I do not possess those talents, but in light of our weekend weather forecast, I now see the necessity of learning such a skill. We are now in a BLIZZARD WARNING....YES, you read that right! On April 30th and May 1st we are due for a winter storm. THIS IS WRONG and I'm not going to take it anymore. If I knew how to knit, I'd stitch together a lovely noose and wrap it around my neck.

Does anyone have the number to Mother Nature? I'd like to give her a piece of my mind. I don't have a lot of brain matter to spare (after my drunken, sorority college days) but in this case, I'm willing to risk it!

The past two days have been wonderful. 70 lovely degrees, light breezes and sun! Madison bathed her Arab, Lucki, and gave Ka Ching a scrubbing too. In light of the impending storm and Sunday's saddle fit session at our training barn, we had to haul Ka Ching over there today in order to ensure that the horse is there for the fitting regardless of the el crappo weather. At least I know I'll be able to get there in the Denali and this way I won't have to worry about driving on the muddy/snowy roads. How sad to still have to worry about snow and blizzards the last day of April.

Somebody tell Old Man Winter to take a hike and leave North Dakota alone. Looking at this with a glass-half-full perspective, I suppose we have it better than the deep south with all those deadly tornadoes. Sadly I know in just a matter of weeks, we'll have gone from snow to tornadoes and have that to worry about.

So where do I go to learn how to knit?

Another damn funeral

2011-04-28T16:07:00.000-05:00

Last November, I was asked if I would join our funeral committee at church. Pastor Paul assured me that it involved one or two funerals a year in which I would have to bring some type of dessert and help prepare the meal, serve and clean up. No biggie I thought, I could easily handle that. I should have known that nothing in my life ever, EVER goes as planned.

Starting in December, our church, our itty-bitty, little tiny Lutheran church has had 12 funerals as of today. My ass is whipped. The kids have served and partaken of so many funerals now that they think of them as some odd social gathering. Another home schooling mom is the head of the funeral committee and we refer to ourselves as the "Thursday afternoon social club." Sick, I know! A funeral or two ago as the family of the dearly departed was gathering downstairs near the kitchen before the funeral, Jerome very loudly announced that "There sure are a lot of customer's here today." See, we've all been desensitized to death.

Death, shmeath.....it's no biggie any more to the kids. They know that they get the pick of the desserts before the 'customers' get to and when their chores there are done, they get to play with all the new kids that have shown up for the big soiree.

It's weird though that having the only 4 black kids for miles around, people I've never met or heard of seem to know us. Case in point today. I was standing with Richnigthder in the kitchen when a woman I've never seen before asked me if he (Richnightder) was one of the Laurie kids? I told her this was one of my sons and she looked surprised. Whatever. I just think its weird that some old broad knew my kids, their last name and had no idea who in the hell I was.

I suppose I shouldn't be so damn bitter about having to serve my church community again...on a rare, beautifully sunny and warm day.....but for Christ's sake, people need to stop dying because it's putting a serious crimp in my plans. It's not like I don't give or do for my church. Hell, I do A LOT for our church. I was elected to church council and part of those duties require me to serve the Blood of Christ and count the haul...I mean offering...be the council rep to the educational committee, a small group leader for 2nd year confirmation, reader, greeter, altar guild and other assorted odd jobs that no one else seems to want! All of this from a girl raised as a cradle Catholic now turned happy Lutheran.

Does anyone else who knows me find it belly-laughing funny that I get to do Eucharistic duties? Whenever I hold those chalices with the wine and grape juice, I'm afraid it's going to sizzle and God's voice will come down from the sky and tell everyone to "Move to the other line. The line without the foul-mouthed, formerly slutty Catholic girl holding the Blood of Christ." All I know is that the Lutheran's either have really low standards or since everybodies dying, my qualifying skills were the ability to stand erect and fog up a mirror. We all have talents. Mine must be providing comic relief for God on Sunday mornings.

To haul or not to haul

2011-04-27T14:06:00.000-05:00

While some people have jobs that require them to make urgent, life or death decisions, I, as a home educating mother to 4 must make the burdensome decision as to whether or not to haul Madison's dressage horse to her lesson today or let her use the instructors? Oh, why do I have to be in such a position that decides my daughter's future happiness? insert sarcasm here.......

The gravel roads are mucky here and while we drive on paved roads most of the way, approximately 5 miles are red mud that sucks the tires in and throws you around like you are driving on....oh, let's say...a huge puddle of egg whites. Madison's future moods depend on whether or not I haul her horse, Ka Ching to the lesson today. God only knows I don't want my sweetie pie (cough) of a 14 year old daughter to be stomping her feet and screaming because I am ruining her life by not taking her horse and making her use one of the instructors horses. I delight in watching her ride and want to haul her humongous horse, but don't feel like putting the truck, trailer, horse and us in the ditch.

Sunday and Monday Madison will be part of a saddle fit session at our trainer's barn. Schleese Dressage Saddles will be at Karla's and Madison and ka Ching will have an appointment to be properly sized and fitted for a new dressage saddle. It's really a neat thing to watch the horse be measured with tools that gauge where a saddle should sit on the horses back and shoulders to allow for unrestricted movement. Of course this cost a pretty penny, but the saddles are exquisitively made and the smell of the leather alone is enough to get me to open up my checkbook.

Then later in May she has a riding clinic to attend offered by Anne Cizaldo. She is super excited about this. Not excited enough to curb her delightful teenager attitude, but some sassiness I'll take since she still is more interested in this than dating!! As long as my kid is riding a horse and throwing her passion into that, I know she's at a barn with lots of other ladies and when not there, here at our place riding. I relish that at 14 I still know where she is and what she's doing. I don't want her to grow up sometimes, but oh what I wouldn't do to have her lose her voice for a week!

Eloquence with words to share the potential heartache of adoption

2011-04-26T11:49:00.000-05:00

I never intend to hurt anyone with reality checks. Heck, I need them too and they often come from my kids. However, the reality is, that adoption is often over-run with emotions. They run the gamut from manic highs to depressing lows and everything in between.

When a new potential adoptive parent shares the news that they are planning on growing their family thru adoption, they are naturally wrapped up in the natural thoughts of a loving, gorgeous child who is full of loving hugs and gratitude for their new family. Sadly, that is just a dream. Reality is that an older child, one who is walking and talking, has experienced loss, trauma and neglect in some form. No child added to a family should be added with the belief from the adoptive parents that the child will be grateful or appreciative. Adoption should always be motivated by selfish thoughts of the part of the parents: We want another child to love......regardless of whether or not the child reciprocates love.

When our little boys came home from Haiti, we very clearly told them that we loved them, but we did not expect them to love us. What we did expect was respect and kindness. We are lucky. Our little boys are firmly attached and love us. I attribute part of that success to the fact that Richnigthder's birth mom and dad told him at our goodbye meeting in Haiti, "It's ok to go with them and love them." That was a humongously crucial piece that allowed Richnightder to close one door and walk thru the next one. It also helped him not feel a sense of betrayal by loving us AND his birth parents.

In an idealistic world I would love to share my thoughts on adoption and not have people get defensive nor think I am over reacting and being a total butt head and raining on their parade. Remember, we've marched in that parade and heard the words that burst our bubbles and still marched on. For us, we escaped the dreaded life-altering effects of Rad-a-lad-a-ding-dong behavior (thanks Corey) but we had the unexpected realization that one of our kids suffered some pretty profound prenatal exposures. We deal with it, but there are days when his issues envelop the entire family and it becomes 'his' show.

I'm not nearly as articulate as my friends are: Friends who I have met in the trenches of parenting children not born of our bodies. One's whom we love but that present challenges relating to their previous lives. My intent remains to not hurt anyone's feelings or deter them from their desires, but to share and educate real life experiences that cannot be learned from any book.

Adopting any child involves loss and heartache. We know Madison's birthmom suffered tremendous heartache knowing that her angel would ride home from the hospital with us and she would leave without her. How odd for our newborn daughter to be placed in my arms at the moment of birth and be carried by me....which to her was a completely new voice. Did Madison suffer trauma? No, not really. We are blessed to have an open adoption with Angela where from the first days of life, Angela would come to our house and have a cup of coffee with me while I tried to keep my eyes open from lack of sleep. For both of them, the transition was a little easier due to openness. But our adoption story with Angela and Madison is not typical. We...our entire family benefits from having Angela in it. I only wish I could offer Thomas the same beautiful birth story that Angela and Madison share. For so many kids, trauma begins to happen well before their first breath out of the womb.

I'm linking to an Orlando Soul Sister's blog. Her words regarding adoption are eloquent and written with truth, emotion and gut-check moments. Here's the link...enjoy....http://waldenbunch.blogspot.com/2011/04/to-prospective-fosteradopt-parents.html

Up and at 'em at 4AM

2011-04-24T15:07:00.000-05:00

Today began at 4AM when Madison was the first to hit the ground running. She got up to bake the 2 dozen cinnamon rolls we had to bring to the church breakfast, took her dog, Carlos out to go potty, and then went to the barn to feed the horses. Yep, that's my girl!!

By 6:15 we had all piled into the car to head to church. It started at 7AM but we had to get there a few minutes early to take the cinnamon rolls to the kitchen and then stake out a good seat. The kids grabbed a handful of candy for the drive to church and the fights began. Just the usual fights of he's breathing too loudly, she's singing like a dying cow, that's my headphones, give 'em back.....you know, the standard complaints. Half way thru church Madison realized the price tag was still on her new shirt and I had to dig around the inside of the back of her shirt to yank it off. Jerome kept loudly announcing that he smelled something yucky, which was actually the Easter breakfast cooking downstairs and Thomas noticed a very attractive girl with a far too low cut blouse on and said, "Dad, look at her!"

By 8:45 we were home and settling into chores. I've got to get going soon on getting our Easter dinner in the oven, but had to shared that if I died today, I could go to Heaven with a smile on my face and in my heart. Marc and I and all the kids headed out to fix some horse fencing and it just happened that Richnigthder and I ended up at one fence post together, by ourselves, waiting for Marc to come back with a part. We sat there in the middle of the field, just the two of us and laid back on the still brown grass and watched the clouds go by. We laughed about what each of us thought the clouds looked like and for those few minutes, my life was utterly perfect. I was there alone with my son on a gorgeously sunny day and the only sounds to be heard were the Sandhill cranes and our laughter. Call it an Easter blessing, but I knew for sure in my heart, I was in the right place doing what I was supposed to do with my life. I felt completely, utterly happy and content.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. How did I end up with these amazing kids? 2 of my kids came from far, far away and I know it took God and an angel or two to put us together. So on this Easter, I hope you are able to find a small moment in time that reminds you of the glory this world has. If I live to be 110 years old, I know I'll remember those few quiet moments spent with Richnightder under a sunny sky, on an Easter afternoon.

adoption realism vs. happy fantasy

2011-04-22T15:59:00.000-05:00

I've been really, really lucky in our adoptions. Our kids are attached, happy and discrimating in their affections. We didn't 'hole up' when the boys came home from Haiti,, but instead tossed them into the reality of our life. Of course we modified life a bit and Marc took 6 weeks off to stay at home while we smooshed together our new life of 4 kids and 2 parents. Each of our adoptions, just like our kids have been vastly different, yet each with their own challenges and joys.

What's bugging me today is that once again I have read a post on a forum I belong to, where the gal is tickled about the adoption they're beginning, but one in which she openly states that her husband has "allowed" her to proceed with the paperwork etc, even though he is still not 100% sold on the idea. WHAT???? She further stated that they have prayed and fasted and feel their needs are covered by prayer. Whatever!

Being the shy person I am, I took the chance to share some of my experience in the adoption realm and tried to educate her that it's not a great idea to proceed blithely along with the assumption that dear 'ol hubby will share her passion and fall in love with said new child. To further complicate matters, they are working with their states DHS. OMG, scary!! The kids under DHS care are going to need some serious therapeutic parenting; one where both parents are on board.

Once again I find myself treading that fine line between scaring the hell out of prospective parents with potential REALITIES and not bustin' their bubble of joy. I remember with our last adoption, I hated hearing about all the problems that we could face. But the difference is I had educated myself, prepared and gleaned every shred of knowledge I could from those who had gone before me and didn't merely rely on prayer/fasting. Don't get me wrong. I prayed my butt off, but God also gave me a brain that told me to prepare for any eventuality. I also knew I might have a kid with attachment trauma, but that I would NOT be a mom who could not attach.

How do I impress upon people who are still in the dreamy-eyed state that not everyone is cut out for adoption? I know the forum post I replied to pissed off the prospective mom, but it scares the hell out of me for the potential new family member, that the dad is just going along with it. I failed in this situation to impress the necessity of two parents being gung-ho about it and being so thrilled and happy that no obstacle could over whelm them.

I have been really, really fortunate to have 4 attached, average kids. Do I give God some of the credit, of course I do. I also credit really, really great adoption social workers/advocates who shared the reality that 'could be'. Life aint always a bowl of cherries. Sometimes life is like it was here the other day......full of dog poop, stir-crazy kids and assinine comments from freaks in the store that make us roll our eyes at their stupidity. Somebody help me get thru to this gal how important it is to be in-it-together with her husband. I'm failing to educate and it's killing me!

Let's face it, today was a poopy day

2011-04-20T15:00:00.000-05:00

The title of this blog post in no way reflects upon the actions of my children! Instead, the day was chaotic because of my 4 furry kids, the dogs. At some point during the day...so far...all of the dogs have pooped and peed in the house. Add to that aromatic bouquet, one dog barfing in two separate locations and you have a snap shot of my day.

My dogs are housebroken. Of course they do have an occasional accident, but if that happens it's usually by the door, which tells me they tried to get my attention and I ignored them. Today was off-the-chart, horrible. At one point I was vacuuming up the dog hair and stepped back into a pile of still warm dog barf. I put the vacuum away and pulled out the steam cleaner only to discover that Bunny had peed in her crate and in front of it....on the carpet of course!

I have cleaned, scrubbed, vacuumed, steam cleaned, and swiffered my way thru the day. I am D.O.N.E. The way I look today, I should be the poster child for distraught, frazzled, crazy homeschooling mom's of America. Golly, I'm a sight that even I don't want to see in the mirror. What a shame that blogs don't have scratch and sniff abilities. My house reflects the odiferous array of barf, poop and pee with a backer of linen fresh Lysol, Dow foaming bubbles, Clorox wipes and Bissel pet stain remover. So who wants to come right on over and have some fresh from the oven brownies?

Reflections from the chronically confused

2011-04-14T16:15:00.000-05:00

I'm hoping today's post makes some sense, or at the very least more than the last post. I know some things for certain. I know eventually the 4 kids I currently have will grow up, go to college and eventually leave home! Hurray! I know I love my husband and kids more than all the stars in the sky or grains of sand on the beach! I also know I want another child!

I have faith that if it's God's will, it will happen.

I also realize that the addition of another child could possibly bring some major issues into our house that we haven't had to deal with before. This scares me into a fetal, thumb-sucking position. This is where I begin to lose my faith.I believe God does have a master plan and if it happens, it is what it is and you deal with it.

In searching for signs, I've gotten a couple that I think lead me to think a 5th child is God's plan. The most recent sign was an email from Vivian (adoption social worker extrodinaire and friend) that said we would be able to work directly with her and Chances for Children and not have to choose a coordinating adoption agency. This saves some serious pocket change!

The most significant sign is one I still can not divulge to the other two people that read this blog. It has to deal with dear friends possibly taking on a huge and wonderful, life-changing responsibility that very well could benefit us in this 5th child endeavor. I know it sounds confusing, but trust me. This is a wonderful thing for all of us involved!!

The road before me is still a little twisty and turny, but I might be seeing the individual bricks on the road a little more clearly.

Faith is in my heart and head. Now to make that ultimate leap of faith.

To leap and follow your heart when your head is telling you be logical.

In matters of love, is logic ever relevant?

NEVER!

decisions, decisions

2011-04-13T16:22:00.000-05:00

In 2007 our decision to adopt the boys from Haiti was a no brainer. We just knew we would follow our hearts to pursue adoption. This time however, I am having a hard time following my faith-filled heart. This time I know what lies ahead for us; the L.O.N.G, endless wait, the political upheavals, the horrific cost, the emotional weight gain for me, etc. I am also worried about just how many times we can adopt, and continue to avoid kids with dramatic emotional issues related to loss, grief, anger, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc!

I'll be the first to acknowledge that one of our kids has some struggles due to some prenatal exposures, but those challenges, both for him and us, remain manageable. He works his hinney off to conform to social norms and to please. 'Normal' families might think he'd be a handful, but for us, adapting to his needs is just second nature. But the huge, cloudy thought bubble hanging over my head remains and it keeps shouting, "What if next time, you have a kid that throws our newly established sense of normalcy into the toilet, day after day, after day? Trust me, I now know approximately 70 women who deal with this shinola everyday and what they deal with scares the paint off my toenails.

A little knowledge is scary and I know just how lucky our two little boys were to have been cared for in a creche that did very well by them. Their physical, emotional, and educational needs were met. Of course no creche can replace a forever family, but in terms of orphanages, our was good. Very good! But I've also seen and heard the real life horror stories of kids from orphanages that carry home to their forever families, their fears, struggles and anger about their lives that they have not had any control over. All of that crappola eventually comes out and the forever family ends up being the toilet into which these kids spew their crap. Of course the kids are not to blame. They are the innocent ones, but getting thru to them that you will love them forever and always, protect them and comfort them is an endlessly up hill battle.

We've been very, very lucky and blessed in our 4 adoptions. I believe in every fiber of my body that each of my children have been destined to be mine from God since the creation of our earth. I know these are my gift's from God and are only with me for the blink of an eye before they grow up and leave home. I am ashamed to be struggling with my faith right now: To be questioning the nudges I feel God is giving me. I wonder if my desire for another child is a selfish wish on my part solely or am I merely following the pull in my illogical heart. God has never given me a "Burning Bush" sign to definitevly tell me what to do. I've looked for the billboard signs that say, "God wants you to do this." I suppose I need to keep looking deeper in my heart which is highly illogical and yet has not led me astray.

My heart has never been logical. I have always led with my heart. So far my heart has not let me down. Why then do I question the addition of another child? I don't know? When I see my thoughts in print I feel stupid that I have even written them. I know there is another child out there for us, but feel very selfish in wanting that. All these crazy thoughts of course after talking to Vivian, our adoption social worker who presented me with a couple different options in Haiti. So many kids remain in orphanages that I feel guilty for contemplating only adopting one. We've been blessed in so many aspects in life, that both Marc and I feel that it's wrong to not share it, and do what we can to leave the world in a better state than when we entered it. However, none of that is to say we are adopting again because we feel some mis-guided need to 'rescue' an orphan. Our desire in adopting again is purely selfish.

We want another child.

We have the ability to do so.

What I don't have right now is T.H.E. sign from God that that is his path for us.

Faith.

I have it.

So if I have faith, why am I waiting for that 'burning bush' sign?

The gods must be crazy

2011-04-08T12:57:00.000-05:00

I can't explain it. I really can't. Everything seems to be going alright in our life right now. Madison is growing up and maturing. Her riding is taking off as is the price tag to keep her in dressage/jumper riding! Thomas is doing nicely in school and makes me smile when I see him help other's out without prompting. Of course his generosity is usually extended to those that do not reside with us, but nonetheless, his kind heart is lovely. Richnigthder is so smart, so capable and so athletic and sooooo stubborn. Jerome is, well, Jerome. Just a happy little guy who jumps for joy when I tell him we're having chicken and rice for dinner.

So what in the hell is making me feel like adding another child to our family? Why in the hell am I contemplating this when everything seems to be fine? I don't know if I can articulate it other than to say I feel there is space in my heart for another addition. Space for a young girl to round out our family. Perhaps I am crazy, or perhaps I like tempting fate. I don't know for sure, but it is something seriously in my heart and head right now.

Next Tuesday Vivian, our remarkable adoption social-worker and dear friend will give me a jingle to discuss some ideas she has for our family. Hmmmm, I wonder what in the hell that means? All I can tell you is that something is nagging my heart and telling me I have too much to share to keep it just to myself. Besides, Madison thinks it would be nice to have a little sister to boss around and 'make' her clean her pigsty of a bedroom. Maybe I haven't done such a great job afterall!

Driver's Ed and other horrifying thoughts

2011-04-05T18:59:00.000-05:00

Madison will turn 14 in a matter of days and while I revel in watching my beautiful, intelligent daughter grow up, it also carries with it a boat load of chest-clutching fear for her dear 'ol parents. I keep saying it out loud; a learner's permit? How could this child possibly be old enough to get her driver's permit?

Today we picked up the driver's ed manual and it ceased to be just another paperback book. What I held in my hands was the realization that my baby girl is reaching the age in life when she will venture out on her own and not always have her mom and dad around to protect her. Letting go is scary. Scary for me that is. For Madison, it is a right-of-passage that has her thrilled, tickled, excited and giggly.

I don't want to let go. I am afraid of letting her out into the big scary world on her own...in a moving vehicle...where she could get hurt. I remember crying one day to my mom about what a difficult day it had been with Madison and Thomas. Madi was a mere 15 months old when Thomas came home and she seemed so 'big' then. My mom in all of her sage wisdom told me that as hard as the baby years are, they are the easy days of child-rearing and the problems get bigger as the kids do. OMG, she really was the smartest woman alive. Oh how I miss her wisdom. Why didn't I pay attention and soak up every tidbit she uttered when she was alive?

Are there days when I wish the Schwan's man would take all 4 of my cranky kids??? Oh hell yeah! But then I come back to reality and remember he brings the goodies, and it's against Schwan's policy to take people's children. Damn it. Reality really does suck sometimes.

How in the hell can my first born be old enough to drive a car? How is it possible that I'm old enough to have a kid that old? It seems like yesterday I stood in the hospital holding Madison as she took her first breaths of air in this world. Time marches on for damn sure and the next phase of life that commences in a few short days has the distinct ability to take days/months/years off my life. Telomeres and cortisol are killing me right now (Love ya Angie)!

As we head into Spring, I anticipate a teenaged daughter chomping on the bit to get behind the wheel and drive with Marc or me in the co-pilot seat. Only one thing makes me laugh as I think of this thought and that is Madison's desire to drive with her birthmom, Angela when we are in Seattle in June! Oh, how I hope Angela can bear the fear of sitting in the seat-'o-death while her genetic legacy takes the wheel on a very crowded I-5. At least learning to drive in North Dakota is not as fear/cortisol inducing as driving on roads crammed with pissed off, hostile, bird flipping BMW drivers. Here all we worry about is passing a combine on a narrow two-laned road or merging onto an empty interstate. Ah yes, Seattle driving should be fun. Thank God Angela is, as her name indicates, and angel and I know she and Madi will have gobs of fun on the Seattle roads. WAhahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

Budget, shmudget

2011-04-01T16:32:00.000-05:00

Once upon a time, a young married couple lived a pleasant little life. They had a cute little house, 3 dogs and no kidlets yet. In 1995 the federal government shut down for a period of time and because Marc is deemed 'Necessary' he got the privilege of working without a paycheck for that period of time. Eventually, he received his back pay, but as the government is prone to, it took a LONG time. So this happy young couple planned ahead and stocked the pantry and the freezer. They had money in savings and it was no biggie at all.

Fast forward to 2011. The couple is no longer young (so-to-speak), has 4 dogs, 10 horses, 5 cats, 2 rabbits, and 1 guinea pig. The house is much larger with a matching large mortgage payment, and a drained savings account because of the kidlets and animals. Life is wayyyyyy more complicated than it was 16 years ago. Marc was told this week that if the government doesn't come to another budgetary continuing resolution, then once again, he will get the privilege of working while others are furloughed. While he will get paid eventually, it will be some time down the road after the government resumes regular operations. The middle-aged couple is in no way prepared for an extended period of having the sole bread winner work without pay. We have a mortgage, car payment, 4 hungry kids to feeds, hungry animals, a dwindling meat supply in the freezer, and the savings account is getting into scary, shallow levels.

We haven't been complete morons in the financial area, but our money is tied up in a Thrift Savings Plan, of which we could borrow from....if there were employees there to process the paperwork. And while I know Marc is one of the lucky ones and will get paid, some of the people that work in his office are deemed 'non-essential' and they will get furloughed without ever getting paid for that unexpected time off.

Everyone knows I am a liberal democrat with decidely left leanings, but for heaven's sake, those children that are pouting and foot-stomping in Congress need to un-cross their angry arms, turns their frown's upside down and get the hell to work on solving this countries issues. I really think that if we turned over this problem to a class of Kindergarten students, they would have better coping/sharing/compromising skills than those buttheads elected to lead.

You think it will fly if I call my mortgage company and explain to them that my mortgage may be late because the federal government can't get their heads out of their butts and figure this crap out? Nah, me either. But how come they can be late on a payment and not sweat it?

I'm fighting my stress induced coping skills which drive me to shop right now. I suppose I should head to Sam's Club and do a little stocking up. I don't know if there are enough Ding Dong's or Ho Ho's to get me thru this stress. Uffda, dis here problem is fer da birds! Is that North Dakotan enough?

Do these jammies make me look fat?

2011-03-28T11:02:00.000-05:00

Jerome finished his bath last night, rubbed himself down with his coconut scented cream and then got dressed in his jammies.

Fascinating stuff, huh?

He wandered out to the family room with just his jammie pants on and asked, "Do these pajammies make me look fat?" I don't know what to make of this other than he cracks me up. And no, the jammie pants did not make him look fat, even though they are a plaid.

Jerome and his Cupcake

2011-03-26T14:59:00.000-05:00

Jerome has a darling little friend from our homeschool group that he affectionately calls Cupcake. She's a sweet little, itty-bitty girl with a perfect little smile, so the name Cupcake fits her to a tee. Jerome has been chomping on the bit to have a playdate with her, so after many delays due to weather, Cupcake came for a nice long visit, along with her mom and little brother.

The house was full of noise and the echoes of stampeding feet. The kids got all dressed in snow gear to head outside and go sledding down our massive snowdrifts in our 'barrow-a-bogan'......which is Laurie speak for a stripped down wheel barrow that the kids all cram into and after a good spraying of nonstick cooking spray sends them shooting down the hills. Obviously the barrow-a-bogan got to be boring, so Richnigthder took it upon himself to saddle up Josh and take Cupcake for a little ride.

When the kids came inside and told us what fun they had had, I chastised Richnigthder for not wearing a helmet and putting one on Cupcake and for taking the horse out without permission on our icy, snowy ground. Once everyone was back inside and the snow gear was scattered throughout the entry way, Cupcake's mom and I had a super fun time just doing what homeschool mom's do best......SOCIALIZE! Of course we enjoyed our social time with a mango margarita and chips and salsa. Over the extreme din of the kids noise we agreed this will be infintely more fun when the weather is warm and sunny and the kids can play outside while we sit on the lounge chairs with a drink in our hands.

For an orphanage kid, Jerome has no problem sharing and playing with and alongside friends. At one point I heard him talking to Cupcake and he was tellling her not to squeeze the guinea pig too hard. After listening to the damn guinea pig squeel for a while we went in to see what was happening and it was sweet to see Jerome being very patient and teaching Cupcake how to hold Cavy on her lap. Eventually they went back downstairs and played a good long time in the classroom. Cupcake was Jerome's teacher and she gave him lessons and drills in English and math. Leave it to a little girl to take charge of the situation and come up with an educational play session.

It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy to know that my little boys have integrated so well into our family, lifestyle, and that I have such great friends that see my kids as just that. Geralyn's kids; not adopted, not orphans, not poor under-privileged kids, just my kids and part of an average, ordinary family. It sure makes dealing with buttheads so much more tolerable, because as we all know, buttheads are everywhere.

Here's to you Natalie! You are not alone although it sometimes may feel that way. Surround yourself with strong, supportive friends and it helps ease the slings and arrows of life. Remember, unique is interesting and ordinary is boring. Your family, my family and gobs of my friends' families are unique...which in my book makes us uniquely us, which is fab.u.lous!

11 more inches....and it's not what you think

2011-03-23T18:13:00.000-05:00

Hard to believe we had another rip-roaring blizzard yesterday. That makes 2 full-fledged blizzards in 11 days. We had just under a foot of snow yesterday and it left some monstrous drifts everywhere.

It has become a nasty habit that Marc is in trial whenever there is a blizzard and is forced to stay in town in his office....alone, by himself, with a warm blanky, a full bathroom, kitchen and most importantly...solitude! Lucky dog! He made it home a little bit ago and is outside on the tractor beginning to move the massive snow drifts that have trapped us on this side of the road. I hate the fact that without him at home, we are trapped.

It often forces me to think about what my life would be like without him...God forbid, as my Irish Catholic mother would add! How would I do the things I just naturally assume he does? While I'm not a shrinking violet and am up to a challenge, there are some things I just can't do. One of those things is moving horse pen panels around. Those are heavy and my short arms just can't grasp them. I can't push the snow on the tractor as I can't seem to figure out how to manipulate the hydraulics and all those damn levers. I can't dig down 4 feet into the draught ravaged ground to fix the water hydrant that the horse ran over. I can't do lots of jobs that are purely sheer muscle jobs. I know that if something happened to Marc, I would be forced to hire these things done. Yes that costs money, but I would have no other option. It bothers me that I wouldn't be able to do it all like he would be able to. Let's face it, doing the laundry and grocery shopping are not exactly 'splitting-the-atom' kind of tasks. Anyone can do those things.

Besides the weather and it's complicating factors in life, I wouldn't want to go thru this life without him. Raising these kids alone would be torture. I guess I could and would do it, but it is a lot more fun to do it with my best friend. Everything in life is more fun with Marc. When he's not here I feel like I'm missing something. Recently, I was asked what changes I have experienced this past year, and in addition to the answer I said then, I would have to add that i fear losing my best friend. It's just a thought that scares the hell out of me.

Life is tenuous and hangs by a thread. I met Marc on October 27, 1987 and things have only gotten better since then. It makes me realize how quickly life is whizzing by and how much I stilll have to do in this life and how many things I want to do with Marc. One of those things is watching all 4 of my kids graduate from college. God willing, they'll get there without driving me into a raging alcoholic or the mental institution. Sitting on a porch swing with Marc in our old age, remembering the good 'ol days is defintely a must have on my list of things to do in this life with him. Hopefully we'll be able to sit there and laugh and recall all the dumb-ass things he's done. Thankfully, I've never done anything stupid or dumbass!

Wanna know why the orange was lonely? Because the banana split!

2011-03-16T22:09:00.000-05:00

It probably has nothing to do with this post, but Thomas just told me this joke and I actually did find it humorous and thought it would make a catchy title. However, I have had some totally banana ideas lately and thought I'd share them with you all.

I am fully aware that I had yet another birthday yesterday and while I realize the option to getting older isn't so hot, I know I am not a spring chicken. Hell, I'm probably not even a spring hen, a spring lamb, or a spring puppy. I think I'm probably more like a wise, sage bear who know when to get all worked up and when to just enjoy the spring-like weather. Yes, age does have some benefits like life experiences that gives you that ability to make oh so wise statements and to accept inevitability without developing an ulcer.

For a little while now I've been massively baby craving. Babies are great, sweet, delightful little creatures that makes everyone smile. Yet I have these flashbacks to Madison and Thomas' baby days and am reminded of the endless nights spent with coliky babies, sick babies who can't even tell you what hurts, and not being able to leave home quickly without packing a diaper bag. I feel safe saying that I think my baby mama days are behind me, that doesn't preclude me from thinking of adopting an older child again.

I know, I know. Lots of you are screaming and/or jumping out of windows now, but I really am rolling the idea around in my head. If we did think of doing this again, it would probably be a girl this time, somewhere in the age range of 9-12 years. I think our adoption advocate in Oregon summed it up best when she wrote me this, "Two girls, two boys and one Jerome," sounds good. For those of you in the loop, Jerome is defintely in a group of his own!!

What in the hell am I thinking? I see my thoughts in print and it scares me, and also gives me butterflies. I suppose time will tell and we'll see where the wind and fate takes us as a family.

Things I never thought I'd have to tell my kid, but did

2011-03-14T15:27:00.000-05:00

So it's old news that we had a monstrous blizzard last Friday. By the grace of God, I arrived home safely but I high centered the car in the driveway in a bank of old, icy snow. Saturday morning, Thomas and I headed out to dig the Denali out of it's icy, snowy tomb.

I brought the snow shovel, and the garden shovel to dig with, and alternately used the handle of the shovels to stab at the snow far underneath the car. Thomas was a huge help even after my numerous warnings to please be extra careful and not hit the car with the shovels. Thomas was working at the rear of the car and from my kneeling position on the driver's side of the car, I was suprised to see the ice chunks just flinging through the air as he frantically worked. When I walked to the back, I was horrified to see that he was using an AXE....UNDERNEATH THE CAR....BY THE GAS TANK!!! In my moment of terror, all I could get out was, "BOOM"! Eventually I uttered the now infamous words, "Hey Tom, it's not a good idea to swing an axe under a car near the gas tank."

Why me?

blizzards, road closures, and rotten children.

2011-03-12T12:30:00.000-06:00

We had a doozy of a blizzard yesterday. Let me say that again. A D.O.O.Z.Y! It was probably the worst blizzard we've had in our 7 years of living in North Dakota. While the weatherman predicted a strong Alberta Clipper system to move through our area, they had only predicted strong winds and minor snow accumulations. WRONG!

It started with some light freezing rain, then quickly switched over to all snow. We probably only had 2-3 inches of snow, but with the near hurricane force winds, it created chaos over almost the entire state. I could see the weather was deteriorating rapidly so I headed into town to get some basics and while the drive into town was a little slower than normal, it was still do-able. I was headed home by 1PM and it was getting nasty with a capital N. Highway 83 was ice covered and the wind was blowing so hard it actually pushed me around on the ice. By the time I reached the turn off to head East towards our house, the road was invisible. The next 8 miles of a perfectly straight road took me in excess of 40 minutes. It was a complete white-out and I had to stop numerous times since I simply could not see where the road was in front of me. Thomas put his window down and would look out and advise me as to how close I was to the edge of the road. It was inch-by-inch progress when I could move forward. When I finally pulled into our driveway, I felt my muscles relax and my heart return from it's temporary position in my throat.

Marc got stuck in town and slept in his office. All highways and major roads were closed to/from and surrounding Bismarck so in town he stayed which was much better than the 700 people the National Guard had to rescue from stuck vehicles around town. With Marc out of the loop, Madison, Adam and I headed out to feel the horses. I figured since visibility was so bad I would drive to the barn, but as you might guess, I got the Denali high-centered half way between our house and the barn.

I've heard old-timer's tell stories of blizzards so bad you can't see your hand in front of your face and I now know that to be reality and not fiction. When we began walking back to the house, I feared losing the kids in the blinding snow so I used a lead line from the horses and had Adam hold it right behind me and Madison at the end. I instructed them to NOT let go for any reason. The walk is only about 500 feet, but it was a really difficult and truth be told....I was scared. Obviously we made it inside, but I went to bed realizing that in the morning I would have to dig out the Denali and wait to see when Marc would make it home.

Thomas and I spent 2 hours digging the damn car out and we continue to wait for the highways to open up so Marc can head North. Even if he can make it North, I have no idea if he'll be able to head East the 8 miles needed to get to our turn off. Our little road in front of our house is impassable and will probably be that way for several days as they work on the main roads. I hope like hell Marc makes it home quickly because I am concerned I just might cannabalize my children. Yes, cabin fever is that bad....so don't judge me!

On a good note, Marc made it to the accountant yesterday to file our taxes. He called to tell me that we are getting a HUGE...did you hear me....HUGE chunk of change back from the feds. Of course the kids already have some plans for the unexpected windfall, mostly Madison who now has her sights firmly set on that new dressage saddle that carried a price tag of $6000.00. And I would like to soak in the sun, say, in the South of France. But before that can happen, we need to get rid of this damn snow and get the friggin' roads opened up! At least I'm not a Storm Home for stranded kids on buses. Our pastor had a full house last night of stranded kids who the buses couldn't even attempt to get home. Storm homes...who ever heard of such a thing. Crazy North Dakota living!

Orlando 2011 is in the record books

2011-03-09T16:50:00.000-06:00

I met some amazing women this past weekend. I had only met 3 of the 68 women in real life before this event and yet somehow, amazingly 68 strangers came together and not only got along, but laughed, cried, shared, and truly enjoyed each other's company.

I'll share more later, but I have chaos occuring right now with the kids, dogs, and horses all running amok.

Besides, I need time to process it all and let the thoughts and emotions sink in. Now, if only I could get them to relocate next years weekend in fun North Dakota instead of Orlando??? I hated the flight into Orlando since I had to sit next to a couple and their 18 month old son who happened to keep wiping his runny nose on my arm. Let's have it somewhere where kids are just naturally not around...say the barren remote-ness of North Dakota!

a few out take pictures from the orthodontist's advertising campaign

2011-02-25T14:49:00.000-06:00

Guess who's birthday it is today? Guess who had a birthday yesterday?

2011-02-14T13:27:00.000-06:00

My baby boy, Jerome turned 7 yesterday. I am admittedly a lot sad by this. Although he's 7, it's only his second birthday. One of the gazillion bad things about having been an orphan is that your real birthdate is unknown and the biggest, suckiest thing is that living in a creche, no one takes the time to celebrate your birthday.

When Gina found Jerome, dying of disease and severely malnourished in that horrible orphanage in Port-au-Prince, she saved his life that day, by taking him to her creche, the one we were working with. He was placed on antibiotics for 30 days, fed 3 LARGE meals a day, loved, bathed, educated and had consistency in his daily life for the first time in his short life. Gina randomly made up a birthdate and chose February 13th which is the day before her own birthday and her son's birthday.

What's coincidental about that is that Marc's birthday is Valentine's Day and now our youngest son, Jerome is the day before Marc's. Somethings are just meant to be.

Marc is celebrating his birthday by going to work like every other day. Which secrets be told, he loves. Tonight we'll have a pork roast if it defrosts in enough time. Lack of planning on my part for that little boo-boo. And since it's Valentine's day, he might just get lucky!

Back to my little Jerome. Yesterday at church everyone at the 8:30 service sang happy birthday to him and he was tickled. We also brought 100 homemade cupcakes to share with all the Sunday School classes as of course, he has friends in all of them. He'll have a kid party as soon as the weather warms up because he wants a swimming party at the water park which is a smidgen impractical when the weather is snowy.

Jerome is amazing for many reasons, but the most impressive is that this kid should be riddled with massive issues regarding attachment, anger, loss, PTSD, you name it, he should be burdened with it. Before he came home, we prepared thoroughly for all the issues he might have dumped on us. What we found was a kid who was just so damn happy to have a family of his own he jumped at the chance and relishes everything a family is. He is firmly attached, understands that a mom and a dad love differently than an aunt/uncle/friend, etc. and knows that family is forever. He beams everytime I tell him I love him and randomly hugs me and says he loves me and loves his family. I feel pretty confident that as it approaches the 2 year mark of his homecoming, Jerome has miraculously avoided the myriad of problems that he by all rights, should have had.

I believe his happy, generous soul is a gift from God. I believe he had angels watching over him and that his life has a fundamental purpose here on this planet. If anything, he has served a purpose by filling this family with a sense of joy and the ability to laugh at nonsense. While God gets the biggest atta-boy for Jerome's good nature, the creche of the Infant Jesus also gets a huge credit.

The kids there were taken care of, fed, bathed (twice a day), had clean clothes, clean beds, an immaculate large facility, playground, a fantastic teacher, healthcare, to include Jerome's opthamologist and eyeglasses, and nannies that cuddled and kissed boo-boos. Granted some of the discipline was done in Haitian style, but somehow, out of the 70+ kids that came home from our creche, I know of only 1 that has RADish issues. One nanny was Atilla the Hun by my standards and my boys dislike her with a passion, but even with Elta's pa bon behavior, the kids flourished inside a cement walled oasis of calm predictability. Outside, daily life in Haiti stumbled on, but our kids were somehow insulated enough to allow them a semblence of normalcy.

No orpahange is a good substitute for a forever family, but for my youngest son, who never even knew what a family was until 22 months ago, he was given a second chance at life and a family when Gina saved him and brought him out of misery and certain death to her creche. What inconsequential occurrences led to Jerome's path connecting with ours? How could I have been so lucky to have crossed paths with this little soul so full of trust and hope? I don't begin to understand the master plan of my life, but I do know that all 4 of my kids were gifts from God and were destined to be my kids even before I was a twinkle in my mom's eye.

I often wonder about Jerome's birthmom. I will never, ever know who she is, how old she was, or if she is still alive. I look at my little boy and see a happy, smiling face and wonder if that came from his first mama? Was she a contented soul like he is? If she is still alive, I hope she feels in her heart and gut, that her sweet baby boy is a true treasure to a family far, far away.

My baby was 7 yesterday, and yet it's only the second birthday of his life. I've missed so much and yet look forward to his future anxiously. I wonder what great and joyous things lie ahead for him?

A mullet, for real dude

2011-02-10T15:34:00.000-06:00

Somethings are sadly still occurring in this world; racism, cancer, world strife, and mulletts. Who stills does this to their hair? Obviously in North Dakota, people are still choosing to do this to themselves for some unknown reason.

Besides lycra stretch pants and fuzzy slippers, mullets seem to be required attire in this neck of the woods. Now I will add that everytime I see this choice in wardrobe and clothing, I am at Wallyworld. 'Nuf said.

People, let's make America beautiful. Keep your mullets safely restrained in your General Lee "Duke's" car, boys and everyone will feel better about the direction of our society.

Mullett...is it one t or two t's? Who knows? But fighting chance that the dude sporting one doesn't know either. And there you have it. Simple thoughts from a simple gal.

God give me the serenity to accept the teen years

2011-02-08T16:22:00.000-06:00

Madison is a very intelligent, bright, quick-study kind of gal. She grasps concepts easily and is a voracious reader. She is also L.A.Z.Y!

When she was in public school she was always the straight "A" kid; you know...the one who never had to study for tests, but still got the 'A'. When we began home educating, I could see that the material she was learning (or not learning) was very, very easy and she had just been gliding thru school. It was a cake walk for her and she was not pushed to stretch her brain and see how far it could expand and what it could absorb. Heck, she just informed me, 4 years after leaving public school, that even though she was in the advanced reading group in 4th grade, she didn't actually have to read the novel, the teacher read it to them. Does anyone else find this more than ironic. It was the advanced reading group...not the advanced listening group. Heck, it wasn't even a difficult book for an advanced kid.

My point here as I ramble is that public school teaches to the average child. If you happen to be a student that excels or needs lots of extra accomodations, then sadly your educational opportunities will be greatly marginalized. Sadly the outstanding educators in our system or woefully underpaid and have little respect or help in dealing with over-crowded classrooms. There also happen to be teachers, laboring under that title that have no business in that profession. I have seen too many who don't like kids, have little tolerance for kid antics and know not a whole lot more than their students. For them, I think the door should hit them on their butts as they retreat from the classroom as they are giving true educators a HUGELY BAD REPUTATION.

My educational plan with Madison is to bring her to the point where college prep classes are no biggie. She just finished reading The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman, by Earnest Gaines and I want her to be able to read a wide variety of literature and be able to infer meanings, contextual clues, historical references, etc. She is perfectly capable of doing so, but she is LAZY! Have I mentioned that before? I asked her to write a 5-10 paragraph composition about how the experiences of Jane, regarding social structure/limitations and historical experiences relate to our current state of racism and bigotry.

Yes, I am aware that in 8th grade, I am pushing her to link her thoughts and coherently describe them in a narrative, but she is more than capable. Have I mentioned she is LAZY! She brought me a decent 5 paragraph composition with an outstanding ending, but the body of the text was jumbled, hurried and full of grammatical mistakes. When I used my all-empowering red pen, she felll into a puddle of tears. I asked her to change this, that, use a different word here, check for punctuation, etc and I got a full-on, foot-stomping angry teen bemoaning her fate of having a too difficult assignment. WAAAAAAAAA

How do I get her to see that I am asking her to do more than her peers in public school, but by no means am I asking her to do anything that she is not more than capable of achieving? Her future is so bright and she is so full of potential, I just need her to harness it and not be so damn academically lazy. Oh, did I mention she is lazy?

Tomorrow she finishes reading another chapter in her ancient civilizations book. It is actually a Freshman college text and she is fully capable of grasping the material, answering the questions and explaining the details of it orally very well. How can my baby girl who is so bright and capable, be so damn lazy when it comes to her academic future? How can I put an OLD head on her YOUNG shoulders? God give me the ability to live thru these teen years without running away from home!!

Whata man, whata man, whata mighty fine man..yes he is!

2011-02-01T18:07:00.000-06:00

Early in December I went my P.E.O. Christmas party and received a bottle of Victoria's Secret Pure Seduction body lotion. I've used it and like the scent and the silky feel of it on my dry, withered hands.

Last week, Marc began using it on his hands and feet seeing as I had run out of Jergens. The first day he went to work after using it, a couple of the guys commented on how good he smelled. WTF? This is a group of muy macho guys all gun toting, handcuff bearing dudes and they have the time or dare I say, sensitivity to comment on how another guy smells?? Marc told them he was wearing my VS Pure Seduction cream and that's when the story gets really creepy. The past several days they all walk past his office, stop, and sniff him. It appears they all REALLLLLLLY enjoy the way he wears his hand cream. 'Nuf said!

Tonight as Marc breezed into the house, he came sporting a Victoria's Secret bag. He looked pleased with himself and when I looked inside I found another bottle of the super duper cream. Of course what woman doesn't want to see her beloved husband walk in the door bearing gifts, but I had to question to myself, whether it's really for me or him. Gosh, we wouldn't want those guys to be deprived of the sweet smelling scent of pure seduction on my man. Nonetheless, I love the fact Marc took time out of his busy day to go shopping for me. Now I've got to run and hide the bottle before he uses it all up on his rough, calloused hands, elbows and feet. Golly, we wouldn't want those men feeling out of sorts before a search warrant.

Hello Pan Am.........

2011-01-31T15:02:00.000-06:00

Or in the modern times, " Hello American Airlines. I want a one-way ticket anywhere." I know in just 33 days or so, I will be flying out of this frozen, snow-covered tundra for the balmy, palm-tree lined streets of Orlando, but I'm contemplating just buying a one way ticket. I don't know if it counts as running away if I just don't come home; it's merely refusing to return to my normally scheduled life. The other 63 women who are going on this lifesaving retreat will be my lifeline and support to keep on swimming.

I think there's been a little too much togetherness lately around the Laurie household. The weather has contributed to our shut in status. Our high temps have hovered in the 5 below zero range which means Jerome will not even go near the open door when the dogs go out to do their business. He stands back and looks horrified. Madison goes out to do her evening chores of feeding the horses and Richnigthhder tags along with Madi to water the horses. He doesn't seem to mind the cold and is a real little trooper in doing the hard chore of carrying water buckets to their stalls in brutally cold weather. Thomas is actually the only one that bundles up to go out and play. That means that for a large portion of my waking hours, the kids are in the house, picking fights with each other just to stay entertained while I cower in the corner knitting a rope to hang myself with.

Yes, mama told me there would be DAYS like this, not MONTHS! And yet, even after having written all the woes that are my daily life, I still find myself massively baby craving. Oh dear God, someone slip me a roofie, because I AM losing my mind.

Is prostitution really a sin if you do it to pay for your kids dental work?

2011-01-27T11:45:00.000-06:00

A couple weeks ago, the kids were asked by their Orthodontic's group to be models for their new business campaign. Their pictures will appear in print, billboards, tv, and on the sides of buses. Yesterday was their photo shoot and from my side of the room, it looked OH-SO-CUTE. He shot them individually and then together, which was a little worrisome to me since they had to put their cheeks together without slugging the hell out of the other.

I'll get to see the pictures before they go to print, but for as beautiful and gorgeous as Madison is, Thomas has a natural presence in front of the camera. His smile lights up the room and he can display any emotion with his face that is asked of him. He just may have found an outlet for his extremly expressive personality. Madison was asked to give a belly laugh for the camera and Thomas helped her out by playing Austin Powers and dancing. He was hilarious! Madison wore a purple tank top and a denim jacket in some pics and a salmon colored shirt in the others. The colors were beautiful on her and her skin coloring is perfectly creamy and delicious.

Need I say that they both have GORGEOUS teeth. Thomas is set to get his braces off next month on the 23rd and Madison still has a couple months. Yesterday before the photo shoot, both kids had check-ups at the orthodontist. I was kicked in the belly when the ortho informed me that Madison has two impacted lower wisdom teeth that will need extraction sometime around 17 or 18. WTF??? We put these expensive braces on the kid to make a gorgeous smile and then, BAM! He tells me not to plan any expensive vacations in the future as she'll need expensive oral surgery. Let me tell you, I am one lucky mama.

Jerome will be heading to a pediatric dentist in Fargo because he is going to need some extensive dental work in the future. Seems that the disease he was exposed to in utero by his birthmother caused him to have permanent teeth with weak roots and horribly mishapened, pitted surfaces. Oh, how lucky are we?

We have great health insurance, but our dental sucks. I just may have to become a prostitute to pay for my kids dental work. Now, where can I find blind men willing to pay for services from this hottie?

Oh Orlando, I need you!

2011-01-20T16:42:00.000-06:00

Today was a snotty day. School actually went well. Work was completed and everyone was happy to head to gym. It was once we arrived at the gym that it all went in the crapper.

Thomas was shooting hoops waiting for class to start and Madison was pot-stirring as only she can do. Thomas got tired of her so he threw the ball at her and it knicked her arm. She chased him down, grabbed him by his skinny bird arms and swung him around and threw him into the dividing net/wall thingymabob. As she stormed towards me I told her if she uttered one complaint, we were heading home. I told her again as she got closer and then, BAM, she opened her mouth and out came the complaints.

I stood up, called the boys to the bench and handed them each their coats and told them we were leaving because of Madison's behavior. She walked out of the gym with tears in her eyes, LOUDLY proclaiming that I am the one with the problem and screaming how mean I am. Mind you, this was all in a public forum and she embarassed the hell out of herself...and me.

How can she act in such an immature manner? How is she capable of being so utterly perfect one moment and the next nothing but a self-centered, vidictive girl? She is capable of such great and wonderful thoughts, deeds and actions that when this 'thing' comes out, I am hurt. Intellectually I know she is a 13 year old girl, but her words and actions still wound.

I expect this kind of unpredictable behavior from my one son that struggles, but from her, it's just painful. How can my beautiful, smart, engaging, sweetheart spew such nastiness? At this rate, I'll take the boys and their antics 10x's over. Ms. Happy Pants...AKA, Gladys is out in the barn shoveling frozen horse crap now in a last ditch effort to dig herself out of the crap hole she has gotten herself into. Hmmm, funny how that has a Karma-like twist to it, eh?

Now onto the exciting, E.X.C.I.T.I.N.G news. Kristi is going to Orlando!!!!!!!! Yep, Kristi from http://ourfabfive.wordpress.com/ is heading to Orlando too. Kristi and I have known each other since, well, before we even met. See, I met one of her sons before she did and had the privilege of giving him some treasured gifts from his momma and daddy. We finally met in person on Father's Day in Miami in 2008 and traveled to Haiti together to visit our kids at the creche. I last saw Kristi in Kalispell in October and it was so neat to see all of our kids and the Watkins kids together in one place, healthy, happy and safe. I can't wait to introduce Kristi to Sarah from http://5frozenchamorros.blogspot.com/ and Angela who happens to live here in town with me, but I NEVER get to see. Her blog is http://www.arroller.blogspot.com/ .

Girls, get your party hats out and if you happen to have a big purple jug with your name on it for LARGE beverages....bring it! 42 days and counting!

Ever Wonder Why??????

2011-01-17T09:05:00.000-06:00

I've always questioned why they ask for a phone number when you fill out a shipping form for FedEx? Well today I got that answer.

About 45 minutes ago, the phone rang from a cell phone number we didn't recognize. Guess who it was? It was the friendly FedEx delivery man calling. Was he calling for directions? No. Was he calling to see if someone was home to sign for the package? No. He was calling because he was stuck in a snow drift down the road from our house and wanted us to come dig him out and pull his truck out of the ditch.

It would appear that when you are stuck in a snowdrift/ditch in North Dakota, you don't call your company, AAA, or a tow truck, you call the person you are delivering to. I guess if you want your damn package, you'll show up with a shovel and tow chain!

The faces of our future

2011-01-14T17:17:00.000-06:00

Yesterday Marc and I were asked to be guest speakers at the Youth Correctional Center, otherwise known as juvenile jail. We were asked to speak about our family, it's ethnic diversity and the culture of adoption. The population of the youth center is hovering around 70 kids ages 11-20 which includes both boys and girls.

The education director is our friend and she too is an adoptive mom. She wanted to speak to the fact that families are formed in different ways and no two families look alike. We sat down for an hour before our appointed lecture time and compared notes and made a rough game plan of shared speaking. I also wanted to address some of the issues we have dealt with in our various adoptions which includes one of our kids having been prenatally exposed to substances, one of our kids having been born with Syphyllis and the issue we prepared for but did not have to deal with, RAD.

As the kids began to file into the room, I saw a wide array of behaviors and attitudes. I saw some kids that looked very young and very scared. I saw some kids that I thought for sure wouldn't blink an eye to put a knife in my back. There were a few black kids, a large group of native american kids and quite a few white kids. Something happened to me that has not happened before......I got nervous thinking about what I was going to say. I never get nervous in a public speaking forum and yet, I felt my stomach flip-flop and my head get woozy. I panicked thinking about the things I was going to say and felt a fear that what I might say in regards to substance abuse during pregnancy and RAD would touch some of those kids on a VERY personal level. I knew some had been prenatally exposed to chemicals and it contributed to their placement in YCC and I knew a vast majority of them exhibit profound RADish behavior. I looked into their eyes and choked. I gasped for air silently and realized that these kids were going to hear my words and see their own stories woven into our experiences.

I began by telling our beautiful, loving experience of Madison's adoption beginning with being matched with Angela and loving her as much as Madison. I also addressed the reality that for as joyous as Marc and I were, we also knew it involved loss and sorrow for the birthmom, and in the case of Richnightder and Jerome, themselves too. Adoption is a double-edged sword; indescribable joy and indescribable sorrow. We discussed our other adoption stories and shared some things we had never done before. This is where my fear, panic, lump-in-the-throat moment came in.

How could I share the anger I feel at one of my kids' birthmom for her selfish choice of having used substances during her pregnancy that makes my kids life hard. Not just hard for him, but hard for us as his parents, hard for his siblings and hard for anyone that loves him. I know how hard he works to overcome his inabilities, how hard he works to hide his differences and how hard he works to blend with his peers. I see his struggles to grasp simple social cues, his struggles to get simple math memorization. And I despise his birthmom for burdening him with these avoidable issues. It was those words I tip-toed around yesterday, but to tell those kids how hard my kids life is with his prenatal exposures I damn near cried because I was looking at a sea of eyes that reflected prenatal exposures and the burdens they carried that contributed to their incarceration.

After our 'talk' several young girls came up to us to talk. One girl who's face told the story even before she told me how her mom drank when she was pregnant and how she's stupid now. I wanted to take her home, but my logical thinking kicked in and realized she would bring a whole boat load of problems caused by years of neglect and self-defeating behaviors. I told her I thought if she was as beautiful inside as she was on the outside, she could use her golden heart and heal the wounds and reach for the stars. Another girl told me she was being adopted and that her little brother was already adopted. All I could say to her was to not wreck the opportunity with behaviors motivated by fear. Pure and simple, these girls looked scared.

One kid in the audience seemed to really listen to us and thanked us for sharing our stories. He also stated during Q and A time that he wished they all had parents like us. In a way I wished they did too. Not that were perfect by a LOOOOOOOOONNNNNGGGGGGG shot, but we do give a damn about our kids and will die trying to give them the best we can. I left there wondering what these kids futures will be. How different would their futures be if they had been born into families that created safe, secure, nurturing evironments for them?

Yesterday was a tough day for me. I have resolved to try to volunteer at the YCC. I don't kid myself to think that I alone can make a differnce, but I want one or two of the YCC kids to know I care.

Rack 'em and Stack 'em

2011-01-10T16:22:00.000-06:00

Although we have lived in North Dakota for 7 years, we are still learning about life here in the time warped space of the open tundra. Everyday we learn something new about how life functions here which still seems freakishly odd compared to how we have lived in other regions.

Within in the past week, Marc, the kids and I have helped prepare, serve and clean up for 3 funerals held at our church. The first funeral was for a dear neighbor of ours who passed away after 10 long years of health issues. He left behind a lovely, lovely wife, grown children and many grand kids. While I was downstairs in the church kitchen cooking, his funeral was being held upstairs. I could hear the service and what I heard I thought was a mistake. After Pastor Paul commended his body to God, he ended the service by adding that his burial will take place when the snow melts, hopefully sometime this spring. Yeah right, I thought.

When Pastor Paul made his way to the kitchen to get some of the food several others and I had labored over, I asked him about the "Spring burial" comment. He did confirm that with the frozen ground and abundance of snow, people who die in the winter won't get buried until the ground thaws and the snow melts. So of course that begs the question...."Where do the dead stiffs get kept until a spring burial?"

Pastor Paul, knowing that I am still new to North Dakota ways, told me that they are just kept in the ditches which are full of snow. When my mouth fell open, he told me that in all honesty, the dead are kept in cold storage units behind the mortuary. Basically the dead get stacked and stored until the snow turns to mud and the burials can proceed. Usually Spring for us occurs sometime around late April. I think it is torturous to the families of dearly departed to have to revisit the sorrow a second time, months after the funeral. I guess the option for those who choose burial over cremation is to keep your loved one in cold storage at home, say , perhaps in the tool shed!

Honestly, can that be any worse than knowing your loved one is racked and stacked with a bunch of strangers in the shed behind the mortuary? BLECH, this is not one of the charms of living in North Dakota.

A simply addressed envelope

2011-01-07T17:04:00.001-06:00

I opened the mailbox at the end of our driveway today and got a very, very pleasant suprise. No, not the Visa bill or Nordstrom bill, but a very simply addressed envelope to: Marc and Geralyn Laurie, Baldwin, North Dakota.

That's it. Nothing more. I opened it quickly when I saw the return address was to a gal I last saw 8 years ago in Oregon. Sunny used to cut my hair...and did a rockin' smokin' hot job of it for me all the time... and i also got to know her outside the salon as our kids were the same age and went to the same preschool. All I can say right now is that it was a great way to start off a new year by remember long lost friends.

Where else, but in rural North Dakota can a letter find you with just a name and town! Yet one more small, teensy-tiny good thing about living in a part of the world stuck in a "Leave it to Beaver" time warp!

continuous electrical service is a good thing

2010-12-30T13:26:00.000-06:00

Last winter we lost power several times due to snow and high winds. The last outage we had was on Good Friday which was early in the month of April. Our power went out and stayed out for many days. We ended up with the rest of humanity at Lowe's on Easter Sunday to buy a generator and it now holds a place of honor in our garage. We revere that appliance and bow down in reverance at its ability to bring us light, heat and most importantly, TV when the power lines are down.

We are in the midst of a blizzard which is supposed to last until Saturday. So far, we haven't had a bunch of snow, but we have 45mph winds that is causing the light, powdery snow to blow into white-out conditions. In anticipation of this storm, I shopped for food, bought extra dog,cat, bunny and guinea pig food, and medicine for the horses in case we are unable to leave.

I never see it as a good sign when you get a letter in the mail from your electric company explaining that Mother Nature has her own agenda and often knocks out our accustomed electrical service. So when this letter arrived from Capital Electric Cooperative, I initally laughed. Then I smiled. See, this letter also asked us to check all the boxes on the enclosed postcard in which we would be able to help the power company in times of outages. Would we be willing to offer assistance; do we have a tractor; do we have a snowblower; do we have a snow mobile; do we have a 4 wheel drive vehicle....on and on and on. I smiled because in this great age of our's with advanced technology, when the going gets rough, it still comes down to neighbor helping neighbor. I think that gets lost in big cities, but here in rural North Dakota, a mere 20 miles from our states capitol, people have to pull together to help get a community effort completed.

When our power goes out, it isn't very long before I hear the snowmobiles of the Capital Electric workers traversing the fields in search of downed lines and poles. Even when the weather is horrible and brutally cold, those men and women, leave their homes to restore power to others. If our power company wants help from us and we have some equipment to help them, then they can have it. I have a feeling this sense of good-will and sense of community is a dying way of life. But here in North Dakota, I really am smiling knowing that our power company aims to provide service, but still isn't above asking it's neighbors for help too. Simply charming!

Ma in her kerchief and pa in the garage assembling bikes

2010-12-24T21:18:00.000-06:00

By some miracle, we managed to get 4 kids bathed, dressed and to church by 4PM for the candlelight service. It was packed but it was a beautiful service complete with Ole and Lena jokes. Singing Silent Night by candlelight is beautiful and puts you in the true spirit of Christmas. Sadly, as soon as the kids raced to the car, the fight was on as to who stepped on whos foot, etc. and the beautiful feelings were over.

They argued the whole ride home, which took a little longer tonight due to the snow drifts on the road and the fog. As soon as we got home, I hurriedly made dinner while Marc and Madison headed out to feed the horses. Once dinner was shoved down their throats and into their belly's I ushered the two little ones off to bed so Marc could commence with his chore of bike assembly.

He only has two to put together, but I figure it will still take him a little while since reading the directions is always a last resort. Somehow he always manages to have 'extra' parts leftover. I suppose when the handle bars come off and the wheel falls off, we'll know where those pieces belonged. But I think Marc is most excited that Thomas will be receiving the quintescential Christmas gift memorialized in the movie, A Christmas Story, that any boy could hope to get. Yes, Thomas is getting an official Red Rider BB gun, sans a compass in the stock. As I type, Thomas is watching that movie again and never seems to tire of it. Well neither do I, but he can watch it back-to-back and still stay engrossed.

So far, I haven't heard an onslaught of cursing from the garage so it's going well for Marc and the assembly process. With any luck, Marc will be finished by midnight and we can catch some sleep before their stampeding feet rouse us from our winter slumber.

Tomorrow afternoon Madison has a friend who will be spending the night with us. She is a very nice young lady and I just hope that the shock of seeing what a house full of boys is like doesn't make her becoming violently ill. She'll get to enjoy our Christmas dinner complete with inevitable argument, and followed by cake and indigestion. I don't think we'll head to church on Sunday as the entire month of January I am both a deacon and a teller(money counter) and that is in addition to my confirmation class duties. Sheesh, being on the church council has a lot of extra duties!

I can't stop yawning and so I bid everyone a good night. Outside our window now, the moon is adding a luster on the crest of the new fallen snow and it looks to be perfect for weather for Santa and his sleigh to make a visit. The cookies and milk are on the fireplace hearth and hopefully by tomorrow morning, santa will have taken some bites out of our cookies as evidence of his visit. Jerome is soooo excited about Christmas that I hope he can sleep. I really, really don't want to do present opening before 5AM.

To all a goodnight!

Is it really a burn-in-hell card to drink the sacramental wine...after church?

2010-12-19T20:04:00.001-06:00

Today was a long day in church for us, by Lutheran standards. We were the greeters at the 8:30AM service so we had to be there by 8ish. In addition, I was the reader and Madison was doing altar guild duties which require her to put out the dish with the communion wafers and fill the challices with wine and grape juice. Then the kids had Sunday School which today was practice for the 10:30 service which was solely the Christmas play. Marc and Thomas had leading roles and both rocked the lines and play. Madison had confirmation class and as a Confirmation guide I had to sit thru class with her too.

Pastor Paul is a super cool, hip guy and today's confimation class consisted of a video of the orginal "How the Grinch Stole Christmas." His hope was that the kids would grasp the meaning of the movie which is that Christmas is not about things, it's about love, which God gave us with the gift of Jesus and that nothing can stop that from happening...not even a grinch. Ok, ok, I just wanted to give you a brief synopsis of our day before I get to the sacramental wine.

I helped Madison put away the un-used Communion wafers, otherwise known as the Body of Christ and helped her empty the chalice's which held the wine and grape juice, AKA the Blood of Christ. Pastor Paul had told Madison that she could either drink the left over liquids or pour them out as they cannot be reused. Seeing as it was going to be a LOOOOONNNNNNGGGGGG day, I decided I would take a large gulp of the "Blood of Christ" before pouring it down the drain because being wasteful is a sin (HA)! Well, in walks Pastor Paul as I'm sipping (cough) the wine and just shakes his head. He did point out that in all his years of Pastoring he has never walked in on someone in the Sacristy drinking the wine. I quickly pointed out that he had informed my 13 year old daughter that she could either drink the unused wine or pour it down the drain, so he should not be shocked to find her mother volunteering for 'clean-up' duties. He's a cool guy, so it was a funny situation especially as I was just elected to a 3 year position on the church council. God I love the Lutheran's.

all 4 of 'em in one place at the same time

2010-12-14T16:46:00.000-06:00

Because I am so on-top of things, always prepared and never procrastinate, I just rounded up the kids and
headed outside to take a Christmas photo. Of course my lack of planning caused us to do this when it is a balmy 9 degrees with a stiff wind and a light snowfall. Everyone was crabby to say the very least...even the horse was crabby as we stripped off her blanket and exposed her to the nasty elements.

Below find the 4 choices that we will have to wittle down to THE ONE that will appear on the 2010 Laurie Family Christmas card. Oh Joy!

Let me tell you a little story about....

2010-12-13T15:23:00.000-06:00

a beautiful baby girl named Madison. She was born on a Spring day in Portland, Oregon to a woman named Angela. Marc and I were right there as Madison made her first appearance in this world. She was so fresh from God and the angels. Her beautiful black, curly hair, her perfect mocha-colored skin, her incredibly loud, demanding voice. Yes, from her first breath, Madison made it clear to the world she was a force to be reckoned with.

We feel incredibly blessed and lucky to have been given the privilege to parent this soul. Without her birth parents, Angela and Darryl, we would never have heard the sweet words fall from Madison's lips calling us mom and dad. We also count our blessings that Angela and Darryl have remained an integral part of our lives. The beauty of open adoptions is evidenced in our ability to raise a healthy, happy daughter who knows her genetic roots and is able to see the reflection of her face and personality in her birthmother's eyes. All is well and wonderful in our adoption story with Madison; a fact we revel in.

We have also been fortunate enough to meet extended family members suchas grandparents, aunts and uncles. We have been able to vacation with Darryl's family including his mom and step-dad and they have visited us here in North Dakota and stayed with us for a week or so. And this is where my story and quandry begins.

When her paternal grandparents visited us in North Dakota in 2007 all went well until Madison had a melt-down. She yelled at us, stomped up and down the stairs, slammed her bedroom door and was, in general, a snotty 'tween. It was a difficult time at our home since my mother was in Oregon, dying of Alzheimers and had just entered Hospice care. But even taking that into account, Madison was just being Madison. She has been strong-willed since her first breath, head-strong, determined and too bright for her own good. R and E, her visiting grandparents had been annoyed by the fact that Madison and Thomas had friends over all the time and I allowed them to go in and out of the house all day. I also allowed them to have ice pops at their desire and this seemed to annoy R and E also. Another annoyance seemed to be that Marc and I were in the process of adopting Richnigthder and Jerome. R seemed concerned about this and questioned us and our reasons for doing so. She also questioned Madison on a long trail ride about her thoughts, concerns, fears of having new brothers. Ok, I let this go as I didn't see it as anything of great bother and it certainly wasn't great enough to rock the boat. We were just happy to have a relationship with Madison's birth grand mother and step grand father.

One night as I washing dishes, R and E came to the kitchen counter and asked if they could talk to me about something. Sure, what the hell; my life is an open book. WHAM! What came out of R's mouth actually made me feel light-headed. I don't know if I felt that way due to anger or saddness. What she said was that she needed to talk to me about something and she wanted to know if Madison was mentally ill. Yep, you heard me correctly, she said she thought Madison was mentally ill! Her basis for this thinking was Madison's rude behavior to Marc and me, her obstinance when asked to do a chore and her apparant feeling of empowerment to have ice pops without asking. I too politely explained to her that Madison has been of this temperment since birth and I acknowledged that she indeed can get mouthy at home with us, but has NEVER, EVER been disrespectful to an adult outside of this home. She is giving of her time, generous of nature and kind to others. I also expressed that I thought she was very well-behaved and polite for the most part and I saw no mental illness. Quite honestly I felt so hurt, I wanted to burst into tears and run to my room like a baby. How can Madison's flesh-and-blood grandmother think such awful things about her grandchild, let alone utter them outloud to me.

I admit my mistake in this was not sharing my true feelings with R and E that very moment. I tried to be polite and act as though nothing had occurred, but it was palpable. The tension in the house grew from then on until their departure. Since then, I have not spoken to R. I miss her, but realize that if those are her beliefs about my child, I guess there is no way to change her mind. I also know that thru the grapevine, she is aware of her offending comment to me, and has never called, written or emailed to discuss/apologize for offending us and Madison in such a painful way.

Now fast forward to this morning when an envelope arrived from R and E addressed to the Laurie Family. What has taken us by suprise is that there was an envelope inside addressed plainly to 'the grandkids' and contained 2 gift cards for $50 each. The financial amount is generous, but what I find disagreeable is that it neither acknowledges the FOUR kids by name, nor acknowledges that there are in fact now FOUR grandchildren as compared to the 'original' two. Thomas is not their biological grandson, but fortunately, they had always treated him as though he were. Now it seems as though they are failing to acknowledge the little boys. Am I being thin-skinned about this? I had always felt lucky that Madison's birth family was so involved, but their slights, rude, hurtful comments have obviously led us to this uncomfortable place.

Richnightder and Jerome don't understand that the two gift cards excluded them, and Madison and Thomas have agreed that the only correct thing is to use the money to buy something for all 4 of them. Wow, for a girl that is 'mentally ill' she sure seems to understand the difference between right and wrong.

So that's my little bitchy Christmas story. I suppose it's not really bitchy, but more painful than anything. I tend to keep slights and insults to myself, at least for a good long time, but I had expected that R would contact me in some fashion to apologize or discuss the fact that she over-stepped her boundaries in my home, regarding MY daughter. I operate on the system that if I believe I have even possibly offended someone, I contact them to offer my apologies and my sincerest hope of extracting my foot from my mouth.

My kids are my everything. They might be a pain in the butt, but those little butt's are all mine. All of my kids have strengths and weaknesses just like every other human being. I am accutely aware of their qualities and when someone comes at me from any point of view that doesn't aim to make their lives better, you better watch out. Hmmmm, I guess when it comes to standing up to R, I took the easy way out; the path of peace on to be shown that that was probably not in our family's best interest. Today I hurt for my daughter and the relationship with R that seems lost, and the knowledge that they are losing out on 4 great kids.

Oh, and Angela, Madison would like to stay with you for a week or so in June when we are in Seattle for her confirmation trip. I just thought you might like to make some waterpark plans for a hot day and see what trouble you two girls can get into!!! HAHAHAHA...P.s. I'll send lots of Solarcaine! Love you oodles, Angela!

time flies

2010-11-28T15:21:00.000-06:00

I find it almost impossible to believe that Richnigthder and Jerome have been home from Haiti for 19 months now. It seems like just yesterday we were hopping on the plane to head to Port-au-Prince as a family of 4, only to return to the USA with the two littlest ones making us a complete family of 6.

Last week Marc and I celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary. The kids made cards for us and all of them will be keepsakes forever. Madison's card for us was written in French and she drew a picture of Marc and me holding hands. Luckily, Madison is grandly delusional and drew me as thin and willowy. I haven't been thin and wispy since she was born, so bless her heart for drawing me in a flattering light. Jerome drew a VERY interesting picture of us. Once again its of Marc and me together. Marc's torso is a square and saddly the picture shows that Marc must be suffering from Elephantitis of his right leg as it is massively swollen compared to his toothpick left leg. Also, Marc's mouth is wide open and he appears to be yelling. Hmmm? But its the picture of me that is REALLY interesting.

As Jerome drew me, he must have been picturing how he came into this world. Since he has a most horrible birth story the first 4 years of his life, he must be searching to add pieces to his story. You see, he drew a picture of a VERY PREGNANT me. I asked him who I was pregnant with and he answered that he was in my tummy. The thought and sentiment are remarkably sweet, but the picture was most unflattering. Not only did he draw a picture of me looking like an elephant in the 24th month of gestation, but he clothed me in a stripped moo-moo. Trust me, even in pictures, stripes just don't work for me. But oh how I love my sweet, easy-going Jerome.

Richnigthder and Thomas continue to have alpha dog battles daily. Those two can fight over anything. They are now fighting over who smells more like manure and they enlisted me to give the deciding vote. Once again, Thomas earns the privilege of being the smelliest boy in the house, an honor he takes seriously.

Madison has ridden outside everyday this week, even in the single digit temps and falling snow. She takes her dressage riding very seriously and I love her determination. Now if she would only spend a few minutes cleaning her hell hole of a bathroom, we would all be happy. It's so gross even the boys won't use it. 'Nough said!

The kids are getting older at an alarming rate and while 99% of the time this makes me ecstatic, sometimes it makes me sad to realize how fast time has flown by. Madison is approaching 14 and it honestly feels like it was just yesterday that we stood alongside Angela in the delivery room watching Madison make her enterance into this world. When Marc cut the cord and I held her for the first time, I couldn't imagine how fast time would fly. She was only 15 months old when Thomas came home and she seemed so grown up and such a big helper to me then. She's still a big helper, just with a big teenaged mouth attached. Thomas has grown to be an extremely handsome young man with a most gently and kind heart. School work remains a struggle for him and me, but I know homeschool is where he needs to be to continue to thrive. Richnigthder and Jerome are physically and emotionally growing before my eyes. I still feel cheated that I misssed out on so much of their lives. 19 months have rocketed by and I am frightened at how quickly the day is approaching when they will all strike out on their own paths in life and I will be able to sleep in, have a margarita with lunch and read a book til my eyes bleed. I picture a day like that when I am struggling to tread water and wonder if, when they are all grown, I will ever be able to relax without all my chicks at home in the nest? Of course, 4 kids in college will be a source of anxiety for me, not just financially, but always questioning if they are alright and doing the right thing. Guess until then, I'll continue to slog through the days and day dream about the all too quickly approaching days of empty nesting.

The moon in retrograde

2010-11-22T13:40:00.000-06:00

Thomas has had a difficult time focusing for about 3 weeks now. The pressure is on him...and me...to complete his academic year by December 31. He can do it, but when faced with the pressure of completing daily work which includes small compositions, he folds. He gets angry and yells and storms around, all of which I recognize as his way of avoiding the work.

Today I had high hopes of a calm, productive school day, but alas, it hasn't been that way. Thomas has been argumentative about finishing his work, heck even starting his work. He doesn't mind reading and doing independent work, but intensely dislikes having to write his answers and form complete sentences in coherent paragraphs. When faced with difficulty, Thomas creates distractions by being naughty which tends to shift my focus from him and his responsibilities as a student, to mom mode and me stopping his behavior. He knows he must complete his work but become soooo frustrated he can't even focus on accomplishing one small assignment.

I swear the kid can find 9 gazillion reasons to avoid school work: the room is too dark/bright; hot/cold; loud/quiet; pencil is too short/too long. I could go on and on. So in the midst of this regular annoyance, I try to get Richnigthder and Jerome settled and into their school day. They usually both start with math and are able to continue without much hovering and typically complete said assignments independently and correctly. While they begin math, Madison begins her day reviewing her lesson manual and getting an idea of how long her day will be. She has a full day and works about 75% independently with some help from me on grammar/composition and geography.

Just for fun today we added in a 'lost' dog to the mix. It is snowing and about 7 itty-bitty degrees above zero. We are expecting even nastier weather...blizzard...by tomorrow and lasting into Thanksgiving morning so having a lost house dog would be devestating. No one could find Gucci anywhere in the house. We checked closets, beds, cabinets, tubs, basically we scoured the house and garage. I called Marc, crying or course, and as he headed home, we got dressed and hit the snowy fields looking and calling for him. I got in the car and drove to the neighbors calling and calling, hoping to see his little black head pop up somewhere in the snow. Sadly that did not pan out.

I drove home and could see the kids searching the culvert under our driveway and saw they too, had failed to find him. I couldn't believe that one of our 4 dogs, that we never let outside without one of us could be lost. Had we left a door open? Did the dog run out with Marc when he went out to feed the horses? It was a mystery.

I told Thomas to run to our back deck and see if Gucci had climbed into the cabinet below the bbq. I was grasping at straws here as I had no idea where he could be. A minute later I saw Thomas WITH Gucci running down the driveway to me. Seems when he was on the deck checking the bbq, he heard whimpering coming from the utility room. He went inside and heard Gucci in the dryer! Marc had taken a load of clothes out this morning and figures he left the door open and Gucci jumped in. I suppose it's completely possible that as he jumped in, it flipped the door closed behind him. All I know is that I am soooo happy and thankful that my dog is not outside lost and wandering in the cold and snowy weather.

I love my Gucci, Carlos, Kitty and Bunny. I love my Tommy, Hondo, Josh, Lucki, Ka Ching, Coco, Blue, Lolly, Corntassle and Baby. I love my April, Elmer, Momma and Tulip. I love my Panda and Darryl. I *like* Cochon and Bacon. I don't think I've forgotten anyone...since these are all my furry babies! And yes, I am thankful they are all safe and sound just where they should be!

It's almost our 20th anniversary

2010-11-16T18:31:00.000-06:00

A month ago I accidentally dropped my Movado watch down our garbage disposal and without knowing it was in there, flipped the switch and turned it on. The horrible grinding noise emminating from the disposal made me say a cuss word and I completely expected to reach inside and pull out a gnargled spoon.

What I pulled out, made me burst into tears. I sobbed and wailed. It wasn't just a watch. It was a watch that Marc and I purchased together on a cruise in 2007 in Belize. He got a matching one too. We had spent the day drinking on the beach, probably...ok, actually to excess...but we were without kids for the first time and were just two love birds alone, enjoying each other's company. The margarita's and fresh salsa made everything perfect. The brilliantly clear water and gorgeous white sand added to our memories and as we returned to the cruise ship we of course had to pass thru the luxury shops. We indulged in buying matching Movado watches and relished them as a luxury. My watch meant the world to me as we bought them as a sign of our love for each other.

After I mushed it up in the disposal, Marc sent it off for an estimate of repairs. Saddly, the repairs exceeded the cost of a new one and Marc had it returned to us. I thought that was the end of it and mourned the loss of my beloved watch. Today I received a box from UPS that required a signature. Marc told me to open it and inside was a brand new, identical watch to the one I mangled. Oh how I love my husband!

Now what should I get him for our anniversary? What can equal the sentiment attached to the watch he replaced for me? I am at a loss. Ideas anyone?

With these odds, I need to buy a lottery ticket

2010-11-14T18:14:00.000-06:00

Let's see. 3 visits to the ER in 3 weeks. Last visit was 48 hours ago when Richnigtder's head collided with my horse's head and resulted in a small concussion.

Fast forward to the present. Thomas just ran inside yelling that Madison got bucked off her Arabian mare and is hurt badly. I ran outside in just my pajama pants, well, and a t-shirt, but my point is that it is only 28 degrees outside right now. Marc hobbled after me slowly since his ankle is still healing and the splint slows him up.

She was walking towards me when I got out there and seemed OK except that she was holding her right wrist. As she relays the story, she hopped on Lucki bareback and Jerome startled the horse which resulted in Madison landing full weight on her right wrist. This happened in our outdoor arena so the dirt is somewhat soft and tilled up so we are really. REALLY hoping it's just a sprain and we don't have to go back to the ER.

At this rate, I'm going to ask for a punch card and see if on the 10th visit I get a free donut or something. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Because I Can't Make This Stuff Up

2010-11-13T16:41:00.000-06:00

Two weeks ago today, Madison was in the ER for her migraine. Last Saturday Marc hopped off the tractor and tore a piece of bone away from his ankle along with shredding his tendons and ligaments. And last night it was Richnigthder's turn to make an emergency visit. Yep, count 'em....that's three in 3 weeks!

Madison feeds the horses every evening and Richnigthder waters them. Last night they were both in my horse's stall while Madison fed the grain and Richnigthder filled the water buckets. I'm not quite sure how it happened, but as Richnigthder bent down, my horse brought is head up and hit Rich straight in the forehead between his eyes. It was a hard enough knock that it threw him backwards where as he was falling, smacked the back of his head on the water bucket. Madison was there as it happened and she said he was dizzy, and confused as he stood up and then ran into the house.

I saw him come in and run downstairs, but thought nothing of it. Madison followed behind and told me what happened. I went downstairs and found him wanting to sleep. NO WAY! Marc came home a few minutes later and we took both took him to the hospital. The doctor gave him some coordination tests and said he seemed "Fine." Yeah, right. I kept reiterating how he wanted to sleep and she said to let him. SURE!

We had to stop on the way home and pick up Thomas from the Iszler's house and we stayed for some time swapping stories of our kids and our cumulative ER visits. Unfortunately it seems that whenever we take a kid there, on of their boys ends up in the ER soon too. I love having good friends that share our similar states of constant chaos and manageable disasters.

So anyhow, that's what we did for fun last night. I'm not sure but I think it was more fun than spending 6 hours at church today making Lefse with 20 or so teenagers for the youth group fundraiser. How do you spend your weekends??

"How come you homeschool?"

2010-11-12T13:03:00.000-06:00

Most days I love the fact that I am privileged enough that I get to home educate my children. Most days it is a good thing and I enjoy their company, their humor, their "lightbulb" moments. However, I never intended to be a homeschool mom. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever believe I was capable of doing such a thing. But then circumstances both in private school and public school led me to this decision.

When we moved to North Dakota in the summer of 2003, we enrolled Madison and Thomas in a Lutheran school and all went well there until Madison was in third grade. She had a little girl in class that told Madison that she was beneath her and was not allowed to play with her because of this. I really believed that the little girl must have misinterpreted what her mother said so I took the bull by the horns and asked the mother. I honestly felt anger like I have rarely before when she looked me in the face and told me that yes, she had told her daughter that about Madison and our family. Armed with an overt confession of bigotry, I marched to the principal's office where she promptly told me and I quote, "We've never had to deal with this type of situation before so if you choose to leave, you'll go with our blessing." WHAT??? In short order we were told to take our black children elsewhere as they just didn't know how to handle racism!

Yes, the principal told us that it would in essence be easier for her if we took our two black children elsewhere as it was a Pandora's box issue she had never dealt with, nor obviously cared to deal with now. It was also around this time that we moved further out of Bismarck and that prompted us to withdraw the kids from private school and enroll them in the local 2 room school house which taught K-8 grade. Once again I was foolishly optimistic about the potential for academic growth.

Madison entered in 4th grade and continued with her record of straight A's. Thomas began 2nd grade and immediately began to flounder. In the little school house, grades K-3 were taught in one classroom and grades 4-8 in the other. There were two teachers and 2 aides for the entire 19 students enrolled. Madison's teacher was actually a nice man. His love of educating and of children was obvious. He worked hard to instill in the children a desire to achieve beyond mediocrity. Thomas' teacher was something else! It was her first year teaching and she sucked at it!! She had a total of 9 kids in her class and needed a full time kindergarten teacher to be hired as she couldn't handle it herself. She struggled to be kind to the boys in her class, and seemed to enjoy the girls. None of the boys seemed to do anything acceptable and she kept detailed notes on Thomas' every misdeed Monday thru Friday. That damn purple notebook came home everyday with page after page of detailed transcripts of what Thomas had failed to do both academically and socially.

I stopped looking at the book as it was too damn depressing and then it became kind of comical. If this woman was supposed to be teaching, how could she keep this running daily log? Honestly, this purple notebook would often have 2-3 pages of notes. The woman was obsessed it seemed with noting only bad things. The final straw came by a fluke. After butting heads with this woman for a year and several months, Marc attended a school board meeting where it 'slipped' out that neither teacher had passed their minimum teaching standards for the second time. HMMMMM????

I decided to pull Thomas out of school in October and began homeschooling him using Calvert. I love Calvert's no-nonsense approach to learning. They expect the child to learn; not just do the work, but actually remember it and build upon that knowledge. I pulled Madison out of public school at the Christmas break as she had overheard both teachers talking about Thomas and what a mistake it was for me to homeschool. Suprisingly Madison went willingly. I anticipated a fight as she is my social butterfly, but she looked forward to homeschool with gusto.

So that is how I ended up home educating the oldest two kids. The little boys arrival from Haiti added yet another long story that I just don't have the energy to go into right now. Suffice it to say that they too are thriving in homeschool and appear to be achieving academically and socially very well. Now that I homeschool the kids and dare say, enjoy it, I will not go back to public school. Our experience was so sad and disappointing that once I was tossed into this realm, I feel it was for the best. I am in this for the long haul and hope to see my children achieve to the highest possible levels. I tell all 4 kids that college is not an option it is a MUST!

I sincerely hope I am giving them everything they need to succeed in life. I also hope I am giving them the confidence to stretch themselves academically. Home education does seem to be more rigorous, at least by the curriculum I use, but I feel in todays global society, it is a must. These kids must have someone fully invested in their future. Someone who cares what they learn. Someone who's job review is reflected everyday in their children's behavior and knowledge.

But today, as the oldest two struggle to put together compositions and the youngest two grapple with cursive handwriting, I am ready to leap out the window. Unfortunately the window isn't high enough to cause me permanent damage, probably just a broken leg. Today in this household, there is much too much togetherness. I think a recess is in order and they all need to go outside and get rosy-cheeked while mama stays inside and escapes into the cyber world.

Before I escape life and reality, I would like to add that Madison and Thomas have each had exceptional teachers who's care and concern for them as student's was obvious. We all remember those teachers we've had that make learning fun and instill a love of it within us. Their efforts go forth with us forever. Madison's kindergarten teacher in Oregon started Madison out on the right foot and Madi will never forget her. She cared about her student's education and was a genuinely wonderful woman. Thomas had a first grade teacher that overlooked his wiggles to help keep him marching down the road of education. I feel fortunate that Thomas had someone early on in his academic life that overlooked his fidgeting and focused solely on his abilities to learn. For the people who are called to teach and do it with a passion, my hat is off to you! And for the few in that profession who are in the wrong career...get out! You're giving the true professionals a bad name.