You know, when you aren't blogging like a scrapbook of your life but are trying to just write about random ponderings that have entered your head at any given time, you can have long dry-spells between entries.
I haven't mastered the skill of writing down thoughts to blog about as they come to me. I drive down the road and have a couple of dozen "great" blog ideas come to me, but by the time I get home...nothing.
Or worse, I get the idea for a decent blog and sit down at the computer to get it all typed up--I even get the first couple of paragraphs and I can feel my head jumping ahead certain directions as I type that I am hoping my fingers can keep up with--and then kids come in either screaming, fighting, or bleeding (or any mix of those three), and by the time I turn back to the computer the idea is completely gone. Zip. My brain is shockingly blank.
When that latter one happens I usually keep muddling through hoping for a new grip on my previous brainstorm.
What usually results from that muddling is about 75% of what you read here on my blog. Rambling, miscellaneous quotations, and usually a lot of head-scratching "what-is-she-talking-about?" type bogging.
I have 4 unfinished blog entries waiting in my "Edit Posts" area for me to get a clue and hammer them out.
THIS blog entry will probably have 67 re-writes and will still make no sense, but what the heck?
[Not that you would know it reading this after I've put it all together, but I just got sidetracked with a little yogurt mishap and my 4 year-old. All is well now--and as a bonus the room now smells like strawberries... What was I talking about?...oh, yeah...]
Sometimes I think it would be easier to blog like a scrapbooker/scrapblogger type, but then I remember that I don't really have a life either and would be stuck with just as much material to write about that way so I might as well stick to what I know. Or what I do anyway, since I can't always claim 100% knowledge on any given topic that I've spouted off about.
I also don't have fun or interesting photos to help my scrapblogging.
And what the heck, let's go for broke: I don't LIKE scrapblogging. But I do enjoy rambling masses of confusion.
I suppose all this means is that I either need to start writing down topics of discussion for my blog when I get a half-way decent idea, or I continue on as always.
You all know me well enough to know which way I'll go with that one.
And do you know what? I'm okay with being that predictable. Better to be predictable than me forcing you to all look at photos and read about saccharine stories of my perfect children or tell you about the results of my latest dentist appointment, right? :)
[What was I talking about? I started laughing about the perfect children thing and my mind blanked again....Ya...Nope, I've got nuthin'...]
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Career Choices and Growing Up
My teen aged daughters are getting to the age where adult pressures are starting to work their way into their lives.
They are being asked frequently by friends, neighbors, & teachers the dreaded question of "What are you going to be when you grow up?"
Since I still don't know the answer to that same question, I've been interested in watching my girls' thought processes as they work on their own personal answers.
When first asked that question, my oldest daughter told her friend that she plans on marrying a rich guy who will let her stay home and go shopping. Since the friend who asked her that question was of the male variety, he was a bit offended at her attitude and asked other pertinent questions like, "What will you do if he dies? Or if he loses his job so you have to help support the family?...etc."
That actually helped get her thinking back to reality and she has since decided that she wants to be a middle-school p.e. teacher.
I'm not sure how she made the leap from 'kept woman' to 'gym teacher', but it works.
My 5 year old daughter, when asked about her future she said "When I grow up, I'm going to be a woman. And I'm going to marry a man who always says 'Yes'."
I guess she liked my oldest daughter's first "career" choice.
In thinking about careers and how one decides what direction to take on that path of life, I thought of some jobs that I wouldn't mind having...and a few I would absolutely hate.
Everyone knows that a meteorologist on the news would be a fairly low-stress job. You study the weather, you make your predictions based on the years of knowledge you gained at school, and then when it snows after you promised sunny skies your job is still secure because you are dealing with 'Mother Nature' and not an exact science. In other words, you can be horribly wrong and still keep your job.
I could totally love a job like that.
What people might not know is that being something like a comedian would be really hard. Sure, to your friends you are funny. Your co-workers laugh hard enough to do spit-takes during lunch breaks at something you say. You even find yourself thinking funny things more often than not, and trying not to suddenly laugh out loud at something that struck your fancy.
But think about it. A professional comedian is always expected to be hilarious. Someone says they are a comic for a living and the person they are introduced to says "Really? Say something funny."
Talk about pressure.
Or they are on stage at a comedy club and the crowd that night just doesn't 'get it'. The best joke in his repertoire gets blank stares or courtesy laughter when two days before in Des Moines that same joke brought down the house.
Even a meteorologist can be funny in his delivery of the weather, but he doesn't get hecklers insulting his mother because his 30% chance of showers ended up being more like a 30% chance that you won't have your basement flooded in the deluge of water pouring from the skies.
I know my examples are cliche.
Everyone makes jokes about meteorologists and their uncanny ability to get the weather wrong. Those same jokesters also think that being a comedian would be an easy job--sleep late, think funny things all day, get paid to stand on a stage and make people laugh at the stupid things your brain came up with that day.
I suppose I should have picked two more obscure occupations to blog about and avoided the cliches...
But I was feeling cliche-like today, so I'm going with what works for me. :)
I'm glad my oldest daughter decided on a career to focus on. She is already a giant step ahead of me in that sense.
My kids are growing up with focus and direction. I am realizing THEY were my focus and direction, and now I need to do some growing up too.
I hate that.
I have put off deciding what I want to be when I grow up until the very last possible moment.
If I could get a job as a professional procrastinator, I would be their most excellent employee.
Until that "dream job" opens up, I guess I will figure out what I like to do and go from there.
Maybe it isn't too late to grow up to just be a woman...and teach Doug to always say "Yes". :)
(Right...and maybe the weather guy will hit 100% accuracy on his forecasts this year...)
They are being asked frequently by friends, neighbors, & teachers the dreaded question of "What are you going to be when you grow up?"
Since I still don't know the answer to that same question, I've been interested in watching my girls' thought processes as they work on their own personal answers.
When first asked that question, my oldest daughter told her friend that she plans on marrying a rich guy who will let her stay home and go shopping. Since the friend who asked her that question was of the male variety, he was a bit offended at her attitude and asked other pertinent questions like, "What will you do if he dies? Or if he loses his job so you have to help support the family?...etc."
That actually helped get her thinking back to reality and she has since decided that she wants to be a middle-school p.e. teacher.
I'm not sure how she made the leap from 'kept woman' to 'gym teacher', but it works.
My 5 year old daughter, when asked about her future she said "When I grow up, I'm going to be a woman. And I'm going to marry a man who always says 'Yes'."
I guess she liked my oldest daughter's first "career" choice.
In thinking about careers and how one decides what direction to take on that path of life, I thought of some jobs that I wouldn't mind having...and a few I would absolutely hate.
Everyone knows that a meteorologist on the news would be a fairly low-stress job. You study the weather, you make your predictions based on the years of knowledge you gained at school, and then when it snows after you promised sunny skies your job is still secure because you are dealing with 'Mother Nature' and not an exact science. In other words, you can be horribly wrong and still keep your job.
I could totally love a job like that.
What people might not know is that being something like a comedian would be really hard. Sure, to your friends you are funny. Your co-workers laugh hard enough to do spit-takes during lunch breaks at something you say. You even find yourself thinking funny things more often than not, and trying not to suddenly laugh out loud at something that struck your fancy.
But think about it. A professional comedian is always expected to be hilarious. Someone says they are a comic for a living and the person they are introduced to says "Really? Say something funny."
Talk about pressure.
Or they are on stage at a comedy club and the crowd that night just doesn't 'get it'. The best joke in his repertoire gets blank stares or courtesy laughter when two days before in Des Moines that same joke brought down the house.
Even a meteorologist can be funny in his delivery of the weather, but he doesn't get hecklers insulting his mother because his 30% chance of showers ended up being more like a 30% chance that you won't have your basement flooded in the deluge of water pouring from the skies.
I know my examples are cliche.
Everyone makes jokes about meteorologists and their uncanny ability to get the weather wrong. Those same jokesters also think that being a comedian would be an easy job--sleep late, think funny things all day, get paid to stand on a stage and make people laugh at the stupid things your brain came up with that day.
I suppose I should have picked two more obscure occupations to blog about and avoided the cliches...
But I was feeling cliche-like today, so I'm going with what works for me. :)
I'm glad my oldest daughter decided on a career to focus on. She is already a giant step ahead of me in that sense.
My kids are growing up with focus and direction. I am realizing THEY were my focus and direction, and now I need to do some growing up too.
I hate that.
I have put off deciding what I want to be when I grow up until the very last possible moment.
If I could get a job as a professional procrastinator, I would be their most excellent employee.
Until that "dream job" opens up, I guess I will figure out what I like to do and go from there.
Maybe it isn't too late to grow up to just be a woman...and teach Doug to always say "Yes". :)
(Right...and maybe the weather guy will hit 100% accuracy on his forecasts this year...)
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Tristi's July Writing Challenge
Tristi Pinkston--author extraordinaire and all-around fun gal--has posted a writing challenge on her blog for the month of July. Check out her blog here and see what I'm talking about.
I have accepted her challenge and have decided that my goal for July will be to write every single day--without fail--except for the week I spend at YW girls camp. During which time I will be at least THINKING of what I want to be writing...and perhaps even scribbling out notes and plot twists on the backs of paper plates.
During the month of July I will be posting on my blog about my progress. I won't necessarily count that as my writing for the day though unless it is more than just a simple blog entry. You'll see what I mean when I get to that point.
When you check out the details of Tristi's challenge, look to the link on the right of her page and go browse her regular blog. You'll be glad you did. :)
I have accepted her challenge and have decided that my goal for July will be to write every single day--without fail--except for the week I spend at YW girls camp. During which time I will be at least THINKING of what I want to be writing...and perhaps even scribbling out notes and plot twists on the backs of paper plates.
During the month of July I will be posting on my blog about my progress. I won't necessarily count that as my writing for the day though unless it is more than just a simple blog entry. You'll see what I mean when I get to that point.
When you check out the details of Tristi's challenge, look to the link on the right of her page and go browse her regular blog. You'll be glad you did. :)
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Kady
My oldest daughter has now been 16 years old for 5 whole months. These are a couple of photos of her:
She hasn't been on a date yet, and while that is just fine with me I think it is starting to bother her a bit.
Luckily she isn't thinking "What is wrong with me?" but rather, "What is wrong with these dang boys? Are they afraid of me? Do they think I will laugh at them if they suggest going out?"
She can be a bit intimidating to boys, so I vote for her response too.
I do have to admit that she was sort of asked out on a date last week but couldn't find anyone to double-date with so she had to cancel. (That is a rule here...no single dating until she is 18...and I didn't even have to say anything to her about it. She just took care of it with no argument--shocking, huh?).
When I asked her if she called a particular good friend of hers to see if she could find a date and double with her, she looked at me like I was insane. "NO!" I asked her why not, and she replied that she is too good of friends with her and would probably end up spending most of the date chatting with her girlfriend instead of her date.
(Again, I see nothing wrong with that...but what do I know?)
When I told her that the idea of going out with a group of people you like is in part to help you if your date ends up being horrible--at least your friends would help salvage a decent time--she just sighed and said "I'm not looking for great advice from you."
Note: She did actually notice that it was great advice. From me. Her mother. The one human that most teenagers pretend to not know and are sure have no common sense. I'm writing that down here for all to see.. :)
A lot of boys like my daughter. She, unfortunately, is a practiced flirt and quite fickle. So I don't think any of the boys believe that she really likes them enough to say yes if they were to ask her out.
The advice I give her on that one is not listened to very well. (NOT a shocker)
Have you noticed that as an adult giving opinion and advice and telling stories of your own teenage years to your kids, that because you have the 20/20 hindsight your advice is brilliant and your stories make you sound like you actually had a clue as a teenager?
I don't tell many stories about my flirting gone bad. Or about when I didn't listen to my mom's advice. Or anything that I might have done at their age that I would ground them for life for if they did it themselves...
The stories I tell are more like how to act really well when you see the dumbest movie in your life and your date goes on and on about how great it was...He paid for it. It was free to you and only killed half your brain cells and took up two hours of your life that you will never get back, so suck it up and pretend you enjoyed it a little.
Or, if you ever go to a batting cage with a date and you know you can hit the fast pitch balls...but your date is struggling and not hitting any and it is making him upset because his idea to be all manly in front of you isn't working out--don't hit the fast pitch balls either. Trust me. It will only end in tears. Unless of course you never want to date that guy again. Then, by all means...smack the heck out of the ball and watch a boy cry.
I also give great dating hints like, always have at least $20 with you in case your date runs out of money--or in case you mix signals and end up being on a dutch-treat date and didn't know it until he pays for himself and then stands aside to let you pay. (Usually with this type of date, I'd be seriously looking for the batting cages....)
Another less popular hint is that if you are having a really awful time, your mom is always more than happy to get a call from you and come pick you up. Not sure if she would take that advice, but one can hope. And she knows the offer is always out there. And if it is a REALLY bad date, her dad is even MORE happy to go rescue her.
So she has that going for her. Even if right now she might not see it as a good thing.
I hope I have told her enough of my lame-date stories that she realizes that sometimes not dating is better than dating a jerk. I might have to pull out some of my better (worse) dating stories to share with her if she starts questioning herself instead of the boys.
For now, I will just enjoy the time before she starts dating. Enjoy the slow progression of gray hair instead of the influx of gray that I am sure will come when I add "Kady dating" to my list of worries. Enjoy having her think I have a clue when I dole out unsolicited dating advice. Enjoy spending time with her before it starts getting taken up more and more with friends and boys as she experiences life.
And until she starts dating, I think I'll take her over to the batting cages and teach her how to hit a fast-ball.
She hasn't been on a date yet, and while that is just fine with me I think it is starting to bother her a bit.
Luckily she isn't thinking "What is wrong with me?" but rather, "What is wrong with these dang boys? Are they afraid of me? Do they think I will laugh at them if they suggest going out?"
She can be a bit intimidating to boys, so I vote for her response too.
I do have to admit that she was sort of asked out on a date last week but couldn't find anyone to double-date with so she had to cancel. (That is a rule here...no single dating until she is 18...and I didn't even have to say anything to her about it. She just took care of it with no argument--shocking, huh?).
When I asked her if she called a particular good friend of hers to see if she could find a date and double with her, she looked at me like I was insane. "NO!" I asked her why not, and she replied that she is too good of friends with her and would probably end up spending most of the date chatting with her girlfriend instead of her date.
(Again, I see nothing wrong with that...but what do I know?)
When I told her that the idea of going out with a group of people you like is in part to help you if your date ends up being horrible--at least your friends would help salvage a decent time--she just sighed and said "I'm not looking for great advice from you."
Note: She did actually notice that it was great advice. From me. Her mother. The one human that most teenagers pretend to not know and are sure have no common sense. I'm writing that down here for all to see.. :)
A lot of boys like my daughter. She, unfortunately, is a practiced flirt and quite fickle. So I don't think any of the boys believe that she really likes them enough to say yes if they were to ask her out.
The advice I give her on that one is not listened to very well. (NOT a shocker)
Have you noticed that as an adult giving opinion and advice and telling stories of your own teenage years to your kids, that because you have the 20/20 hindsight your advice is brilliant and your stories make you sound like you actually had a clue as a teenager?
I don't tell many stories about my flirting gone bad. Or about when I didn't listen to my mom's advice. Or anything that I might have done at their age that I would ground them for life for if they did it themselves...
The stories I tell are more like how to act really well when you see the dumbest movie in your life and your date goes on and on about how great it was...He paid for it. It was free to you and only killed half your brain cells and took up two hours of your life that you will never get back, so suck it up and pretend you enjoyed it a little.
Or, if you ever go to a batting cage with a date and you know you can hit the fast pitch balls...but your date is struggling and not hitting any and it is making him upset because his idea to be all manly in front of you isn't working out--don't hit the fast pitch balls either. Trust me. It will only end in tears. Unless of course you never want to date that guy again. Then, by all means...smack the heck out of the ball and watch a boy cry.
I also give great dating hints like, always have at least $20 with you in case your date runs out of money--or in case you mix signals and end up being on a dutch-treat date and didn't know it until he pays for himself and then stands aside to let you pay. (Usually with this type of date, I'd be seriously looking for the batting cages....)
Another less popular hint is that if you are having a really awful time, your mom is always more than happy to get a call from you and come pick you up. Not sure if she would take that advice, but one can hope. And she knows the offer is always out there. And if it is a REALLY bad date, her dad is even MORE happy to go rescue her.
So she has that going for her. Even if right now she might not see it as a good thing.
I hope I have told her enough of my lame-date stories that she realizes that sometimes not dating is better than dating a jerk. I might have to pull out some of my better (worse) dating stories to share with her if she starts questioning herself instead of the boys.
For now, I will just enjoy the time before she starts dating. Enjoy the slow progression of gray hair instead of the influx of gray that I am sure will come when I add "Kady dating" to my list of worries. Enjoy having her think I have a clue when I dole out unsolicited dating advice. Enjoy spending time with her before it starts getting taken up more and more with friends and boys as she experiences life.
And until she starts dating, I think I'll take her over to the batting cages and teach her how to hit a fast-ball.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
It's All About Me
I know my previous post says 'it is all about love', but I've changed my mind.
It has come to my attention that I am not only shallow--as per described in an even more previous post--but I am also fairly certain that everything is all about me.
When something like this comes to ones attention, it isn't actually a positive and uplifting moment in time. It is unpleasant, really.
I won't mention the specifics of this particular epiphany.
I will only give 'lovely' examples of my world as I see it and why it is all about ME. I will start out easy so that you can see the natural progression of my thinking:
1. When I finally have a 5 year old who is a good soccer player--i.e. doesn't watch butterflies and only look forward to the halftime treats, but wants to play soccer and KICK the ball...and doesn't have to ease into the sport and only get good at the age of twelve...or older--I take full credit. My kid has inherited a love of this sport and is actually good. Must be my doing. Can't be because he has watched his older siblings play and is good on his own merit. Nope. It is because I love soccer so much so I have at least osmosised (is that a word?) the love into his little, learning and growing body.
2. When the Relief Society president gets up and complains (well, 'constructively criticizes' since RS presidents are all good at talking sweetly even in reprimand--which is probably why I only lasted a year in that particular calling because I couldn't master the removal of my foot from my mouth...but that is another story all about me that I won't get into here...) that "we" haven't done our visiting teaching and our numbers are down, I don't think to myself that our ward is at 30% for visiting teaching so a lot of ladies are slacking off on that particular job. I think she is speaking directly at me. It is my world after all. She is just making is sound like everyone is a slacker too so that I don't get offended and leave the church forever just because I don't like bugging the women in my ward on a monthly basis on purpose. Bugging them accidentally on a weekly basis every Sunday is more my style.
I don't think you get style points in heaven. So I might need to adjust that thinking....
3. When a family member has regrets about a life choice, I don't think to myself that I wish they had made a different choice. I wonder what I did to cause them to make that choice in the first place. What could I have done differently to make their life happier? I'm sure I am the cause of all their displeasure and pain.
I know. I should seek professional help. Expand my world to include other people's worlds. Embrace the fact that some (most) of the time it really isn't all about me. Sometimes [gasp] it has absolutely nothing at all to do with me.
Shocking.
If I could learn that, I think I would probably be a better listener.
It has come to my attention that I am not only shallow--as per described in an even more previous post--but I am also fairly certain that everything is all about me.
When something like this comes to ones attention, it isn't actually a positive and uplifting moment in time. It is unpleasant, really.
I won't mention the specifics of this particular epiphany.
I will only give 'lovely' examples of my world as I see it and why it is all about ME. I will start out easy so that you can see the natural progression of my thinking:
1. When I finally have a 5 year old who is a good soccer player--i.e. doesn't watch butterflies and only look forward to the halftime treats, but wants to play soccer and KICK the ball...and doesn't have to ease into the sport and only get good at the age of twelve...or older--I take full credit. My kid has inherited a love of this sport and is actually good. Must be my doing. Can't be because he has watched his older siblings play and is good on his own merit. Nope. It is because I love soccer so much so I have at least osmosised (is that a word?) the love into his little, learning and growing body.
2. When the Relief Society president gets up and complains (well, 'constructively criticizes' since RS presidents are all good at talking sweetly even in reprimand--which is probably why I only lasted a year in that particular calling because I couldn't master the removal of my foot from my mouth...but that is another story all about me that I won't get into here...) that "we" haven't done our visiting teaching and our numbers are down, I don't think to myself that our ward is at 30% for visiting teaching so a lot of ladies are slacking off on that particular job. I think she is speaking directly at me. It is my world after all. She is just making is sound like everyone is a slacker too so that I don't get offended and leave the church forever just because I don't like bugging the women in my ward on a monthly basis on purpose. Bugging them accidentally on a weekly basis every Sunday is more my style.
I don't think you get style points in heaven. So I might need to adjust that thinking....
3. When a family member has regrets about a life choice, I don't think to myself that I wish they had made a different choice. I wonder what I did to cause them to make that choice in the first place. What could I have done differently to make their life happier? I'm sure I am the cause of all their displeasure and pain.
I know. I should seek professional help. Expand my world to include other people's worlds. Embrace the fact that some (most) of the time it really isn't all about me. Sometimes [gasp] it has absolutely nothing at all to do with me.
Shocking.
If I could learn that, I think I would probably be a better listener.
(What?)
I don't think I could empathize better, because right now I empathize so much that I make it personal. So really I should probably learn to empathize less.
I could--maybe...if I try really hard--try to do things strictly because I know they will be helpful to someone else, and not because it will benefit me in any way.
Now that I have rambled this far, I have realized that I can't call this revelation an epiphany. Doesn't an epiphany imply that I have discovered something and it is life changing? I'm not really planning on this being a springboard for change.
In a perfect world I wouldn't need to change. In a semi-perfect world I would see the need for change and try to accomplish that task. In MY world I see the need, weigh the pros and cons of making any kind of effort and then I probably make a few better choices and still keep the status quo for bad choices.
On a good note for anyone who wishes, feel free to blame me for any time your mouth has worked before your brain could stop you. It is all about me so I know that if I had been around, my great capacity for speaking before thinking would probably have been transferred to you anyway...so I'll just expand my influence and take up that slack for you. Nice of me, huh?
It might be all about me, and you all might just be visiting my world...but no one can say I haven't been an okay hostess. Usually. Sometimes. Okay, whenever I make an effort.
Thanks for putting up with me. :)
Thursday, May 14, 2009
"It's About...Love"
I have mentioned my lovely family in my posts.
I usually throw in the caveat that two of my kids were adopted when I mention that I have seven children--not because they are different or not as much a part of my family, but probably because in this day and age when one says they have seven kids you get a lot of shocked looks. So I think I am sort of apologizing for having more than the 2.3 kids that is the 'norm'.
I shouldn't do that.
I don't love my adopted children any less than my biological children.
I'm really going to have to start being more proud of the fact that I have 7 kids. I adopted two...so it isn't like they were a surprise. :)
[I've been writing this post over a few weeks, tweaking it here and there, and I just wanted to pop in a quick story here that happened at kindergarten open house last week. I had this topic on my mind, so when I checked my 3 littles in, the lady asked if the two were twins. I simply said "No." And she waited. And waited. And waited. I finally rolled my eyes and said that one was adopted, and then the woman was fine and moved on. But it bugged me that I had to clarify. Maybe my answer from now on will just be "Yes."...]
I do wish that I had a wonderful, warm-fuzzy story about their entry into our family though.
You know what I mean...everyone has heard the touching stories about how a family went through the adoption process and had grandiose spiritual experiences that solidified the fact that their children were meant to be with them.
Sometimes those stories are so fantastic and tear-jerk worthy that I am sure that for a few seconds in time I can hear the violin playing in the background and hosts of heavenly angels singing the Hallelujah chorus....
That didn't happen with us.
That doesn't mean my two additions weren't meant for my family.
We genuinely wanted them. We got into adoption on purpose. We were foster parents to two other separate placements before we were able to bring these two siblings into our home.
So let me break a couple of myths that people tend to think about fostering and adoption.
First, fostering isn't a horrible thing. Even when you take in children and love them and get them in a home that finally gives them structure and stability, only to know that they will be returning to the chaos that they called home before they lived with you.
You know that for the short time they are with you, you will be giving them what they desperately need. And also during that time you know that their parent (usually just one parent) is trying to get his or her life back together enough to be able to get their child--who they really do love, even if their life choices don't seem to reflect that--back with them.
In my mind, I always switch places with the birth parent. If I were in their situation and had my child taken into State custody, I would want to have every opportunity to work to get my child back. It only makes sense that reunification is a State's first priority.
That said, when I took in foster children I never gave my whole heart to loving them. I was more like a caregiver who loved them as much as I knew my heart could take if they went back to their birth family.
After two placements being returned, I had shut down a little more of my heart by the time we had our two placed with us.
By the time we realized that our situation was going to become permanent, it wasn't a big 'a-ha' moment. It had evolved into something more like instead of 'knowing' they were meant to be with us, we knew it would just simply feel wrong if they left.
That is a different feeling, even though it might sound redundant.
I think it just took me awhile to let go of the clamp I had cinched around my heart that was protecting me from the 'just in case they go back' thought.
The second myth is that all foster kids have issues.
A lot of them do. You would too if your parents were on meth and cared more about their next 'hit' than feeding you. Or protecting you. Or keeping you clean.
But honestly, I know more kids with "issues" who aren't adopted, than those who are.
That's the thing with agency. Everyone chooses their own actions and regardless of your familial status, you might choose right or you might choose wrong.
I think every kid has caused some grey hairs on their parents' heads.
It isn't fair to blame it on the biological link. As if they would have been perfect if they had been the fruit of your own personal loins.
Right.
At least with foster kids you have an idea as to WHY they are acting and reacting the way they do. That makes it easier to help them, or to get help for them. A lot of parents with biological kids with issues go so long in a state of denial that by the time they realize that maybe they should step in and do something, they have a lot of sifting to go through to pinpoint the method of assistance that would benefit everyone the most.
(I'm trying really hard to not point fingers...in my experience, the second you point out someone's poor parenting skills you have a child that suddenly gloms onto that and decides to take that exact poor parenting example and magnify it tenfold.)
Third, remember that what you hear in the news about adoption or foster care that is negative is the extreme. It doesn't make the news unless it is shocking or dramatic. For every case of neglectful foster parents who chain their foster kids to their beds, there are thousands of fantastic foster parents.
As a matter of fact, even if you have never in your life considered fostering children or teens, I highly recommend everyone who has kids or who deals with kids to take the foster parenting classes. They teach you how to be parents. They teach you to understand why your child acts a certain way--foster, adopted, biological...it doesn't matter. Some things are universal. And the foster care system has developed a fabulous course to help adults be, well, adults.
For example, I learned more about the world a 4-6 year old lives in. If you see your 4 year old break your lamp and you ask "Did you break that lamp??" and they say "No." They aren't lying to you. Honest. They are telling you the answer they want to have in their world. In their world, they didn't break the lamp. So where I might have been mad that they broke the lamp and then mad again when I thought they were lying to me--"Helloooo...I just SAW you break it"--really I should have asked, "Why did you break that lamp?" Or send myself to timeout until I can deal with a 4 year old and a broken lamp with some level of maturity since last time I checked, I was the adult. Mostly.
So there you go. My ramble on foster parenting, adoption, and things I've learned in that whole process.
We are truly blessed to have all seven of our children.
When people hear we were foster parents and that we adopted two from the foster care system, I hear too often responses such as "Those kids are lucky to have you."
The truth of the matter is that we are the lucky ones.
I might not have had a burning flame of confirmation that our two we adopted were somehow pre-ordained to be in our home, but the gaping hole I am sure we would feel if they weren't here is confirmation enough.
I usually throw in the caveat that two of my kids were adopted when I mention that I have seven children--not because they are different or not as much a part of my family, but probably because in this day and age when one says they have seven kids you get a lot of shocked looks. So I think I am sort of apologizing for having more than the 2.3 kids that is the 'norm'.
I shouldn't do that.
I don't love my adopted children any less than my biological children.
I'm really going to have to start being more proud of the fact that I have 7 kids. I adopted two...so it isn't like they were a surprise. :)
[I've been writing this post over a few weeks, tweaking it here and there, and I just wanted to pop in a quick story here that happened at kindergarten open house last week. I had this topic on my mind, so when I checked my 3 littles in, the lady asked if the two were twins. I simply said "No." And she waited. And waited. And waited. I finally rolled my eyes and said that one was adopted, and then the woman was fine and moved on. But it bugged me that I had to clarify. Maybe my answer from now on will just be "Yes."...]
I do wish that I had a wonderful, warm-fuzzy story about their entry into our family though.
You know what I mean...everyone has heard the touching stories about how a family went through the adoption process and had grandiose spiritual experiences that solidified the fact that their children were meant to be with them.
Sometimes those stories are so fantastic and tear-jerk worthy that I am sure that for a few seconds in time I can hear the violin playing in the background and hosts of heavenly angels singing the Hallelujah chorus....
That didn't happen with us.
That doesn't mean my two additions weren't meant for my family.
We genuinely wanted them. We got into adoption on purpose. We were foster parents to two other separate placements before we were able to bring these two siblings into our home.
So let me break a couple of myths that people tend to think about fostering and adoption.
First, fostering isn't a horrible thing. Even when you take in children and love them and get them in a home that finally gives them structure and stability, only to know that they will be returning to the chaos that they called home before they lived with you.
You know that for the short time they are with you, you will be giving them what they desperately need. And also during that time you know that their parent (usually just one parent) is trying to get his or her life back together enough to be able to get their child--who they really do love, even if their life choices don't seem to reflect that--back with them.
In my mind, I always switch places with the birth parent. If I were in their situation and had my child taken into State custody, I would want to have every opportunity to work to get my child back. It only makes sense that reunification is a State's first priority.
That said, when I took in foster children I never gave my whole heart to loving them. I was more like a caregiver who loved them as much as I knew my heart could take if they went back to their birth family.
After two placements being returned, I had shut down a little more of my heart by the time we had our two placed with us.
By the time we realized that our situation was going to become permanent, it wasn't a big 'a-ha' moment. It had evolved into something more like instead of 'knowing' they were meant to be with us, we knew it would just simply feel wrong if they left.
That is a different feeling, even though it might sound redundant.
I think it just took me awhile to let go of the clamp I had cinched around my heart that was protecting me from the 'just in case they go back' thought.
The second myth is that all foster kids have issues.
A lot of them do. You would too if your parents were on meth and cared more about their next 'hit' than feeding you. Or protecting you. Or keeping you clean.
But honestly, I know more kids with "issues" who aren't adopted, than those who are.
That's the thing with agency. Everyone chooses their own actions and regardless of your familial status, you might choose right or you might choose wrong.
I think every kid has caused some grey hairs on their parents' heads.
It isn't fair to blame it on the biological link. As if they would have been perfect if they had been the fruit of your own personal loins.
Right.
At least with foster kids you have an idea as to WHY they are acting and reacting the way they do. That makes it easier to help them, or to get help for them. A lot of parents with biological kids with issues go so long in a state of denial that by the time they realize that maybe they should step in and do something, they have a lot of sifting to go through to pinpoint the method of assistance that would benefit everyone the most.
(I'm trying really hard to not point fingers...in my experience, the second you point out someone's poor parenting skills you have a child that suddenly gloms onto that and decides to take that exact poor parenting example and magnify it tenfold.)
Third, remember that what you hear in the news about adoption or foster care that is negative is the extreme. It doesn't make the news unless it is shocking or dramatic. For every case of neglectful foster parents who chain their foster kids to their beds, there are thousands of fantastic foster parents.
As a matter of fact, even if you have never in your life considered fostering children or teens, I highly recommend everyone who has kids or who deals with kids to take the foster parenting classes. They teach you how to be parents. They teach you to understand why your child acts a certain way--foster, adopted, biological...it doesn't matter. Some things are universal. And the foster care system has developed a fabulous course to help adults be, well, adults.
For example, I learned more about the world a 4-6 year old lives in. If you see your 4 year old break your lamp and you ask "Did you break that lamp??" and they say "No." They aren't lying to you. Honest. They are telling you the answer they want to have in their world. In their world, they didn't break the lamp. So where I might have been mad that they broke the lamp and then mad again when I thought they were lying to me--"Helloooo...I just SAW you break it"--really I should have asked, "Why did you break that lamp?" Or send myself to timeout until I can deal with a 4 year old and a broken lamp with some level of maturity since last time I checked, I was the adult. Mostly.
So there you go. My ramble on foster parenting, adoption, and things I've learned in that whole process.
We are truly blessed to have all seven of our children.
When people hear we were foster parents and that we adopted two from the foster care system, I hear too often responses such as "Those kids are lucky to have you."
The truth of the matter is that we are the lucky ones.
I might not have had a burning flame of confirmation that our two we adopted were somehow pre-ordained to be in our home, but the gaping hole I am sure we would feel if they weren't here is confirmation enough.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
May Writing Challenge
Christine Bryant has issued a May writing challenge to those of us in A.I.
In a moment of weakness--and knowing that I should take every advantage to write--I agreed to her challenge this month, and the following is the result. The challenge is to write about a woman that has influenced our lives in some way--the key being that it cannot be my mother, so don't feel bad, Mom, when you read this and it isn't about you. :)
Now, before I begin my challenge piece let me just say that 'challenge' has been the key word for me on this one. As I have admitted freely in previous posts, I am basically a shallow person. I thought about a lot of different women in history, in the Bible, in my neighborhood...and realized I don't often think hard enough about anyone to have them effect me in any way that hits me hard enough to stand out.
I had to be a bigger person than that, right? I thought harder, and vague visions of past women in my life floated just out of reach for my head to wrap around any one person in particular who could stand out as having an impact on my life.
Then I made the mistake of reading Christine's own entry on her blog, and that threw my thinking in all sorts of different directions.
But the following story began to stick out a little bit more and a little bit more. And while I'm not 100% positive it fits the May writing challenge criteria, it is a decent story about a great female. One who I hope to grow up to be like someday.
To a missionary new in the field, if you are waiting for your visa you aren't always excited to be somewhere else. You aren't supposed to be spending three months in the States, you are supposed to be immersed in the country you were called to serve in. But sometimes the Lord has different ideas. Sometimes a short stay in the Ft. Lauderdale, Florida mission ends up being a time for growth and learning that you couldn't have developed anywhere else.
What Hollywood, Florida did for me was teach me through the simple choices of an investigator what true sacrifice is.
Carola Davis was only twelve years old. She and her parents had been taking the missionary discussions for a few months. They lived in a poor area in town, in a simple duplex. They loved my companion, who had met them tracting--going door to door in their neighborhood. They first tolerated and then accepted me, and we had many visits with them to help them overcome some issues, such as a 20+ year smoking habit of Carola's father.
Carola wanted to be baptized. Her mother and father wanted to be baptized. They had done everything that had been asked of them to take that next step, except attend a church meeting. Every week we would invite them to church, and every week something would 'come up' that made it impossible for them to attend.
During these visits we talked with Carola and she would tell us how she is doing in school and with her friends. She talked on and on about an upcoming band trip her class was taking. She had been selling candy door-to-door and had finally raised enough money to pay for her bus ride with her school. She was thrilled, and we were excited for her.
Before leaving her house, we asked her family again if they would like to attend church services with us the following Sunday. They knew that it was the last requirement they needed to take in order to finally be ready for baptism, but with reluctance they once again told us no.
Not having a ready excuse this time though, Carola's mother finally admitted that the reason for not being able to attend church was that they didn't have any good shoes to wear to church.
It surprised both my companion and myself enough that we had no immediate response except to say that we were sure everything would work out, and that we would do what we could to help them.
That Sunday morning just before leaving for church, my companion and I received a phone call from Carola's mom asking us for directions to the church and to double check on the time. We told them we would wait on the front steps of the church for them and introduce them to the bishop and show them around.
When they finally arrived we could see all three of them wearing brand new shiny church shoes. All three had matching smiles and such a great spirit about them.
My companion and I complimented their new shoes and Carola's mother hugged her daughter to her and told us with tears in her eyes, that Carola had heard her excuse for why they had been refusing to come to church. She had then immediately gone to her room after we had left that night and had brought her mother the money she had earned to pay for the school trip.
Carola told her mom that it was more important for her to see her family baptized and able to become sealed in the temple for eternity than to go on a trip with her classmates.
Two weeks later, the family was baptized.
Carola's example--even twenty years later--has stayed with me. I don't know if I would have sacrificed what she had when I was twelve years old. I would like to think I would have done the same thing, but I remember that age being one of self-import.
It has stayed with me enough to help me prioritize what is really important in my life.
It influence my decisions because it taught me to look at decisions in a bigger scope.
Will my decision help other people? Or will it only effect my life?
Is it a worldly desire? Or a decision that will have cause and effect forever?
A twelve year old girl.
You never know who is going to have an impact on your life. I never would have dreamed that I could learn so much from someone so young. But I did. And I will forever be grateful to her for the example she set for me.
In a moment of weakness--and knowing that I should take every advantage to write--I agreed to her challenge this month, and the following is the result. The challenge is to write about a woman that has influenced our lives in some way--the key being that it cannot be my mother, so don't feel bad, Mom, when you read this and it isn't about you. :)
Now, before I begin my challenge piece let me just say that 'challenge' has been the key word for me on this one. As I have admitted freely in previous posts, I am basically a shallow person. I thought about a lot of different women in history, in the Bible, in my neighborhood...and realized I don't often think hard enough about anyone to have them effect me in any way that hits me hard enough to stand out.
I had to be a bigger person than that, right? I thought harder, and vague visions of past women in my life floated just out of reach for my head to wrap around any one person in particular who could stand out as having an impact on my life.
Then I made the mistake of reading Christine's own entry on her blog, and that threw my thinking in all sorts of different directions.
But the following story began to stick out a little bit more and a little bit more. And while I'm not 100% positive it fits the May writing challenge criteria, it is a decent story about a great female. One who I hope to grow up to be like someday.
To a missionary new in the field, if you are waiting for your visa you aren't always excited to be somewhere else. You aren't supposed to be spending three months in the States, you are supposed to be immersed in the country you were called to serve in. But sometimes the Lord has different ideas. Sometimes a short stay in the Ft. Lauderdale, Florida mission ends up being a time for growth and learning that you couldn't have developed anywhere else.
What Hollywood, Florida did for me was teach me through the simple choices of an investigator what true sacrifice is.
Carola Davis was only twelve years old. She and her parents had been taking the missionary discussions for a few months. They lived in a poor area in town, in a simple duplex. They loved my companion, who had met them tracting--going door to door in their neighborhood. They first tolerated and then accepted me, and we had many visits with them to help them overcome some issues, such as a 20+ year smoking habit of Carola's father.
Carola wanted to be baptized. Her mother and father wanted to be baptized. They had done everything that had been asked of them to take that next step, except attend a church meeting. Every week we would invite them to church, and every week something would 'come up' that made it impossible for them to attend.
During these visits we talked with Carola and she would tell us how she is doing in school and with her friends. She talked on and on about an upcoming band trip her class was taking. She had been selling candy door-to-door and had finally raised enough money to pay for her bus ride with her school. She was thrilled, and we were excited for her.
Before leaving her house, we asked her family again if they would like to attend church services with us the following Sunday. They knew that it was the last requirement they needed to take in order to finally be ready for baptism, but with reluctance they once again told us no.
Not having a ready excuse this time though, Carola's mother finally admitted that the reason for not being able to attend church was that they didn't have any good shoes to wear to church.
It surprised both my companion and myself enough that we had no immediate response except to say that we were sure everything would work out, and that we would do what we could to help them.
That Sunday morning just before leaving for church, my companion and I received a phone call from Carola's mom asking us for directions to the church and to double check on the time. We told them we would wait on the front steps of the church for them and introduce them to the bishop and show them around.
When they finally arrived we could see all three of them wearing brand new shiny church shoes. All three had matching smiles and such a great spirit about them.
My companion and I complimented their new shoes and Carola's mother hugged her daughter to her and told us with tears in her eyes, that Carola had heard her excuse for why they had been refusing to come to church. She had then immediately gone to her room after we had left that night and had brought her mother the money she had earned to pay for the school trip.
Carola told her mom that it was more important for her to see her family baptized and able to become sealed in the temple for eternity than to go on a trip with her classmates.
Two weeks later, the family was baptized.
Carola's example--even twenty years later--has stayed with me. I don't know if I would have sacrificed what she had when I was twelve years old. I would like to think I would have done the same thing, but I remember that age being one of self-import.
It has stayed with me enough to help me prioritize what is really important in my life.
It influence my decisions because it taught me to look at decisions in a bigger scope.
Will my decision help other people? Or will it only effect my life?
Is it a worldly desire? Or a decision that will have cause and effect forever?
A twelve year old girl.
You never know who is going to have an impact on your life. I never would have dreamed that I could learn so much from someone so young. But I did. And I will forever be grateful to her for the example she set for me.
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