How am I Raising a California Valley Girl in Iowa?

I was talking with my oldest daughter the other day--one of my favorites, because every day when our family of seven is together is a favorite day. She was telling me a story about her work. These are the best.  

I digress here a moment. Mommas of young kids, you have something so fun coming! When your kids get jobs, they are going to tell you stories about their days.  Coworkers, bosses, clients... It's endlessly entertaining to listen to them talk about incidents, personalities, and their own reactions and responses. Both my grown kids have always worked in fields where they are caring for others, which seems inevitably to earn some riotous stories about outlandish behavior and/or bodily fluids. Best shows in town!

Back on track. So, we are listening to a story. She was not at the end of the story, but paused after quoting a request made by a coworker. A younger sister was in the room with us, seemingly engrossed playing with a stuffy in her lap. She took the pause to mean it was her turn to help end the story. So she did with this:

"And you were like, 'no!'" 

The tone and inflection was spot on with an 80s Valley Girl. Where'd she pick that up? 

March: 2022

We are scooting along through the years. Between 2021 and 2022, we fostered twins, quit all our jobs, and moved 2,000 miles away. I got a job working at a terrible day care with wonderful people. My students were precious, their families generous, and my co-workers exceedingly special. But the system stunk and the center eventually went under.

I had the wonderful pleasure of partnering with my son in the classroom for a while there. By March, we were actively job-hunting. My daughter was doing brave things working in service to people with special needs. My husband was enjoying retirement. We were learning how to ballroom dance!

We were on our third church by then. I was having a hard time finding my place. That was a new challenge for me. I've had struggles in many churches but never had a problem with just finding a church. I felt stiff-armed and unwelcome. I couldn't find an inroad as a working woman. On the other hand, my husband was veritably collecting men's Bible studies. He joined and continued in each group as we church-hopped.

It was difficult and wholly unfamiliar to not have a church family. It stood in stark contrast to the one we had just left. The members of our small group are people my new daughters know and pray for.  They are phenomenal and I am staggered by the lavish love of our Father to let us be in that group that is now scattered across the states. I love them all so much. And their love has sustained me through this weird church-drought we are experiencing.

During this March, we celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary by taking a sleeper train to see Niagara Falls. It was dreamy. Life was dreamy. We were living our happily ever after. What a March!

March: 2019

Continuing our retrospective into Marches past, we zoom from 2018 to 2019. We lost our precious girl to a Native American family thanks to ICWA laws. It was devastating and our family was still in the deep throes of shock and grief. 

To be honest, the four of us still have wounds from losing our little girl that merely gape a little less. We miss her and pray for her daily.

At this point (in 2019), we were licensed with an agency and hoping to be a safe place for kids in need.  We'd given ourselves a month to make zero decisions after our girl left. Then we discussed whether we would continue as a foster family.  We unanimously decided that if kids didn't get to choose to be foster kids, we WOULD choose to meet them there.  We knew it would be hard, but we could trust Jesus to sustain us.

On a more celebratory note, my first daughter graduated high school! In March, I was writing her transcripts, and she was wrapping up final projects to complete her high school education on the fifth of April. Pretty exciting stuff. She did not enjoy school, and her graduation marked an accomplishment that I hope she still loves.  

Our son was in college, and I decided to join him. In March, we were preparing to begin at WGU on the first of April. I was finally going to get my BA! I spent March hunting down transcripts from my lifetime before raising two kids.

What a March!

March: 2018

It's March.  You know that already. But it has become a significant month to me.  It used to be October that big changes happened to us.  We moved, had our daughter, moved another time--and yet another time--all in October.

The other day on my Facebook, my memories from three years ago showed my husband and me on our 25th anniversary Niagara Falls train trip.  I said that the year before we had just welcomed twin girls as foster placements. And, of course, it is my big sister's birth month.

I did a little fact-checking and realized that the last several Marches in recent years have brought substantial changes to our lives. 

Travel back with me to 2018. In March 2018, we had our very first foster placement and completed a whirlwind of training and licensing--you know, since the 2-year-old girl was already living with us.  We had known her since birth, and I'd been providing a good 60 hours per week care since she'd been 5 months old. My oldest friend was her foster mom.

Things went very sideways and we were her new foster family.  By March, it was clear she wouldn't be able to go back to my friend or her biological mom. We very much wanted to be her forever family. Of course, we loved her desperately and considered her one of us. But also, she'd already lost so much, and we didn't want her to lose any more. 

It was a crazy month of court appearances, therapy appointments, park days, and parenting my big kids who were quickly approaching adulthood.  What a March.

It's My Sister's Birthday

It's our tenth birthday of hers without her. I am conditioned to look forward to it because she claimed the entire month for her celebration. Of course, now, there are more feelings surrounding the day. I'm just going to tell you about the best woman I've ever known--and I know many, many wonderful women. 

One of the most obvious descriptors of Diane Cherie Porter is that she is intelligent. That is the easy, low-hanging fruit attribute. She was tech-savvy, devoured books in a day, and could teach on any subject. She was so smart that her IQ was still higher than everyone at the office where she had it tested after some of her brain was removed. They fawned over her like she was an A-list celebrity when she was lamenting her diminished skills. 

--You'll have to excuse my verb tenses for this post.  I tend to speak about her in the present tense still because she is a Jesus-lover and thus has eternal life.  But sometimes the past tense slips out as I delve into specific memories.

While her cognitive intelligence defines her and informed everything she did, Diane is so much more than smart. Diane is kind in a tangible way. Her attentiveness, acute memory, and the time she made for people made us feel like we were the most important thing in her life. 

She was the glue in our family. She stayed in touch with all our grands, aunts, uncles, and cousins, as well as all the members of her husband's family. She was the greatest aunt one could want. Those connections mattered to her; the individuals were valuable. I know she prayed for us all regularly and her heart overflowed with love.

Diane had the Spiritual gift of faith. We all have faith in something. And believers are given faith. But Diane had the gift of faith that passes all understanding. She didn't waiver. She was so firmly planted on the Rock that she took on the qualities of a rock. One story I love is that she was late to her own baptism because she was busy bringing a teen soldier to Christ.

Diane could be counted on to speak the truth with love in the face of anything and everything. I benefitted countless times from her talks exhorting me that despite all the evidence that I was drowning, God was bigger than the waves. She encouraged me when I felt like my kids would never overcome their challenges. Or when I thought I would never be good enough for my family.

She went through a lot, including fighting brain cancer for years. Only at the very end, thanks to institutional neglect, multiple brain surgeries, and mind-addling drugs did depression ever touch her. But for the rest of her life, she navigated the difficult things with this assurance that love wins. Sometimes she yelled it at us. "Love wins, you idiot!"

In fact, Diane epitomized joy. She was generous and playful. She celebrated others' triumphs. She infused heartache with the deep unshakable joy that comes with an eternal point of view. She knew what lasted and what was temporary. She made an event out of anything, celebrating everything.

She loved to sing. Every time we got together, she'd beg me to sing two-part songs with her. "This is the Day," "He Has Shown Thee," "Humble Thyself in the Sight of the Lord." There is an older one that goes, 'Brother, Sister, we are young/ And our lives have just begun/...Sons of God/ Hear His holy Word/ Gather 'round/ the Table of the Lord..." I wish I'd joined in more frequently and with more verve than I did.  Ah, hindsight. I've countless songs ranging from hymns to 80s ballads that make me think of her.

Diane used the moniker Mrs. Quiet. It was funny because she is a TALKER. But she was married to a soft-spoken shy introvert. It was her joke. It was also an expression of her undying love and devotion to her husband. Man, she loves him!  Her marriage was a beautiful thing to behold--they were both forever in love, giving favor to the other while happily bickering over everything. They were different in just about everything.  He was not a gamer, or a singer, or gregarious, or crazy-smart, or a voracious reader. I am not sure I ever saw him in front of the computer. But it didn't matter one whit. They were into each other, God, and their family.  That was enough.

Diane was an excellent cook. She threw together feasts and treats while carrying out a bunch of other tasks plus three conversations. She was skilled in savory and sweet dishes alike. I strive to cook as she does, but I am more hit-and-miss and can be quite a disaster in the kitchen.

There is so much more. 

• She played an integral role in Protestant Women of the Chapel in both California and Texas while her husband served in the army. She loved the women she taught and fellowshipped with. 
• She homeschooled her kids. She homeschooled other kids. 
• She worked as the secretary at various churches--and was the unofficial confidant to several priests and pastors. 
• She would sit on speakerphone with me while I schooled my kids.  We would just spend hours on speakerphone, both of us going about our day with our families.  
• She loved Jesus. Her love for him drew her into depths ever richer. You couldn't know her without hearing about her Friend. She was a prayer warrior, persevering and persisting in praying for the people she loved.
• She asked hard questions. We wrestled together with doctrinal beliefs, politics, and any hot topic for years, always seeking truth over merely winning an argument. She loved to think.
• She loved movies and TV shows. She invested in characters like they were real, applying biblical truths to the worldliest programming, extracting beautiful parables that would shine light for those who would never crack a Bible.
• She was funny.  She came up with all sorts of silly phrases.  I still use them today, like okeydokey smokeybutt.
• She was wise and had all sorts of maxims. One was, 'Cry when it hurts to not cry. When the crying starts to hurt, stop.'

Thank you for reading about this lovely woman. I am deeply honored to call her my big sister. You can't know me without knowing at least a bit about her. She prayed my husband into my life. She kept us married for the first decade. I homeschool because of her. She made me brave. She made me love Jesus. So much of who I am is because of her.

"Adoption Is Hard Sometimes"

My daughter said she got sad while coloring because she saw a page she had colored with her first mom.  I asked her how she feels when surprised by memories like that.  Does she wish she didn’t have them?  She said that it depends. Sometimes it is nice, but other times she wishes it wouldn’t happen. 

Then she said, “Adoption is hard sometimes, especially for me because I get really emotional.”  I assured her that she is just the right amount of emotional.

That’s a pretty smart girl!

Bucket List

Our bucket list is not something we have given a whole lot of thought.  But the thought that we have given has been fun.  I rmember the first time I heard the phrase kicked the bucket.  I was at my grandparents’ house visiting my dad’s family and we were watching It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World.  My dad had to explain it all to me.  Fast forward a few decades and I got to watch The Bucket List with my husband.  Now making bucket lists of our own seem like the next fun step.  I tend toward the serious, but enjoyed the lightheartedness of this activity with our family. I wrote these as they were called out.

I want to go to a play
Madi wants to go to Paris
Max wants to write a book
I want to travel the US
Brian wants to star in a play
Madi wants to be a famous dancer
Madi wants to own a zoo
I want to run a race
Madi wants to write a play and perform in it
Madi wants three children
Brian wants at least four grand kids
I want chickens
Madi wants to shoot a gun and bow
Brian wants to hang-glide
Brian wants to go to Hawaii
Max wants to be on a silly game show
Brian wants to be on a silly game show
Madi wants to go on amazing race
Madi wants to hang glide
Madi wants to sky dive
Madi wants to bungee jump
Madi wants to own a lot of pets

You gotta Love Words!

For posterity.

Madi: Do you know what extraordinates me? Whenever I think of creation I think of my children's Bible because I used to read that story all the time. I loved the pictures so much. But now I know about cells and amino acids and organs and the cow's four stomachs and think how much God had to really make when he created the world. It isn't just the pictures that I like of birds flying and fishing jumping out of the sea. That is extraordinary.

There is nothing better than inventing new words. I invented one myself yesterday when my daughter was teasing me about being afraid of the dentist.  I told her that I am not afraid.  It is just sensible to avoid people in the business of causing others crippifying pain.  That is my new word. 

Speaking of words, I asked the kids what was the difference between disturbing and creepy. This is the answer I received:

Creepy is a ghost story. Sitting next to a naked guy is disturbing.

And a final fun with words inspired by my hilarious kids: Playwright or don’t play at all.

Eh, Not SO Great…

There is a song that just captivates me.  The group Sidewalk Prophets sings “Live Like That.” Check it out here. It is so good.  Go ‘head, I’ll wait.

 

If I could write beautiful, heartfelt poetry or music, these would be words I would use. Oh! It just speaks my heart.  I do want to live like that!

 

 

Here is another. ‘Well Done’ by Moriah Peters gets me through the end of my literal runs, but also inspires me to ‘keep on keepin’ on’ with regular life, as well.  Oh, I do want Him to tell me, ‘Well done’!

I want to exemplify love.  I want wisdom to course through me so that all my choices glorify Him.  I want the parts of me that show to the world (and my family) to be the perfect parts that Jesus Himself created, restored and perfected.

So.

How’m I doin'?

I was recently unfriended by someone on Facebook. Unfriended!  That is a purposeful thing, you know. No matter what excuses some people propose, it just rarely happens by accident.  I realize it isn’t the end of the world.  I can’t even tell you when it happened.  I only noticed because a third party had her listed and her icon was not annotated as a mutual friend.  But it happened.  Someone chose to remove me, not hide or modify my access, but remove me.  I was amputated—something I just wrote about yesterday.

I’m guessing I’m not living up to my inspirational music.  I sing it while I cook and shower.  I pray that God will aid me in each moment to embody His Love to the world.  But, if I were doing that, I don’t think a friend would take time from her busy life to exclude me from it.  *sigh*

To quote my very clean-mouthed dad, isn’t that just the shits?  (In case my tone conveys inaccurately, I am being quite sincere about my dad's mouth. I can recall him cussing less than five times in my entire life. Each time he did, he used his words most appropriately, as I intend it here.) And worse, I hate failing, but I hate being confronted with my failure even more.  Boy, I’m a mess!

Tomorrow is Christmas, the second most important holiday to the Christian faith.  The thing that distinguishes Christianity from all other religions and faiths is that Perfection with a capital P reaches out to humanity.  All the others either say there is no perfection or offer instructions on how humanity can reach it.  Christians have to (get to?) come to the miserable but undeniable truth that we are abysmally incapable of following even the most basic instructions, even when we desperately want to.

Jesus knows this about us (duh, right?).  He wants to be friends, but knows that the only way to do it is if He does all the work! Christmas is when we celebrate the first part of the amazing process that brings us together again.

I am so sorry I lost this friend.  I am so sorry that she is just another name on a list of people who chose to quit me.  It breaks my heart.  I love my friends and cherish them so dearly, and I over and over and over again cause them enough harm that they amputate me from their lives.  And my goals were so lofty—that we all live happily ever after.

Thankfully, this isn’t the end.  Until the end of time, the story always ends with ‘To Be Continued.’  It is written.  The story is final.  Praise Him.  Happy Birthday!

Sick

Last Christmas we were sick and shoveling snow.  This year looks like we might squeak by and come out ‘oh for two.’ (I am not a sports person and this is the first time in my whole life I have ever tried actually writing that phrase.  I realize that I don’t know how to spell the ‘oh’ we use for the number zero.  Hmm…)

I actually enjoy shoveling snow.  Sadly, clear skies are forecasted for the whole week.  We have had picturesque snow on the ground for a few weeks, because of the eyeball-freezing tempuratures since the last snowfall.  Looks like we got a thaw just in time to have a brown, muddy Christmas.  I don’t remember ol’ Bing singing anything dreamy about gloppy doggie prints on everything I own! 

For the other part of the score, the kids have had what I am calling a 36 hour fever.  Thankfully, as sick goes, it’s  not so rough.  No stomach issues other than loss of appetite (please pause to sing the Hallelujah chorus from Handel’s Messiah with me), no wracking cough, no stuffy heads. Both kids more or less slept for two nights and a day, and had a recovery day of lounging. I am truly thankful for these blessings.

The nice thing about sick is the forced slow-down to our schedule.  We have some pretty phenomenal friends and I love spending time with them.  Our calendar can get pretty packed without much effort.  Being on lock-down gives us a chance to reconnect as family, serve one another when we are weak and take the time to rest.  I don’t ever like missing the neat things we had planned, but I am almost always appreciative for the restorative time together.

Hopefully, my husband and I will be spared this particular infection, our doggie will continue to get back to normal (the surprising wet spots on the carpet are getting super old) and we can have a very merry, healthy Christmas! 

Family Traditions

We have some family traditions to help us stay focused on Christ during the Advent season. Some evolved over time, initially happening either by chance or without any regularity, but over the years they have just come to be cherished activities our family anticipates each December.  Other traditions we have established more thoughtfully and with more purpose.  And some on this list are new-to-us traditions.  I’d love to hear from you about the things you do that acknowledge this special time of year.

Most of these are pretty inexpensive and not too time consuming.  Feel free to try some out for your own family.

 

Read Jotham’s Journey	Make and Send Christmas Cards	Donate the Christmas Coin Jar	Go Christmas Caroling	Make a Blessings Poster
Do a Random Act of Kindness	Make Christmas Ornaments	Bake for the Christmas Tree Lighting on Main Street	Decorate the House	Watch Charlie Brown Christmas
Make a Christmas Dinner with Friends	Watch the Grinch with Jim Carrey	Make Paper Snow Flakes	Write a Letter to Family Members	Watch The Santa Clause Movies
Make a Birthday Cake for Jesus	Have an Advent Wreathe	Go See Christmas Lights	Watch the Polar Express	Watch The Very First Noel
Family Game Night	Make a Pinecone Bird Feeder	Special Christmas Breakfast	Make Marshmallow Snowmen	Make Snowmen Pizza
Put on a Play	Christmas PJs	Play the Stocking Game	Make a Christmas Cookie Tree	Find New Christmas Music
Make a Countdown Garland of Green and Red Paper	Make a Christmas Craft	Bring Goodies to Fire, Police and Hospital Workers	Buy gifts through World Vision	Make Popcorn Garlands for the birds

Happy Anniversary to Us

Today is a special day.  Two years ago this day we moved into our current home!  We now live about five miles out—and about 900 feet up—of our little town.  At the time we moved, I had my sights on moving more like 90 miles from town.  Since where we live is just a tiny neighborhood off the beaten path and no one happens by here on accident, it was a workable compromise.

This house has been a true home to us that has offered a time of incubation, healing and renewal.  I came here pretty lost and broken.  As I look back, I marvel at the changes that have come into our lives since we first arrived. 

But the plan was that we would make that big move when the lease was up seven months from our move-in date.  So, to be celebrating our two year anniversary here is a bit surprising.

As I ponder things, I realize that maybe I shouldn’t be too surprised that we are still here.  My husband is a roots man.  When I was a kid living with my dad, we moved all the time.  After my parents divorced, we achieved more stability and moved just six times from the time I was 8 to 22.  When Brian and I got together, our first years mirrored my time with my dad; moving five times in less than five years.  I think that was harder on my husband than it was for me.  In his life, BC (before Cindy), he could count on one hand the number of moves in his whole life!  Wild! Or not.

We soon settled down and by the time we were in the same place for seven years, I was starting to go a little nuts.  While I can blame the economy, I can’t say that we would have moved even if money’d been falling from the sky.  My darling is a roots man.

We lost our home because of that economy after living there for 11 years.  My daughter and husband both got teary eyed each time we went to the old place to clean.  Not me; I felt that we were overdue and I was happy to move forward.   Brian actually accused me of not being sentimental, but that’s a digressive rabbit trail I’ll skip.

So here we are.  Two years.  Each July, when our lease is up, I anticipate a move—either in town or out.  For 2014, I’m embarrassed to make my normal nomadic noises.  I might become a running joke as we pass year after year in our hidden paradise.

You Know Your Tired When…

I just read an article about what sleep deprivation does to the brain.  The summary is that a sleepy mind is a dirty minds and sleep cleans the brain. It was a timely article because just a few nights ago we were laughing at ourselves for being so tired.

We were saying goodbye to friends after Bible study and I was sipping on some hot cocoa with a spoon in the mug. To keep it from knocking around, I rested my finger on the top of the spoon and began to sip.  Ever so slowly I began to tip the drink.  I am embarrassed to say that I actually poked myself in the eye with my finger.  Worse, I just held that position as I tried to figure out how to tip the mug further because I still hadn’t gotten anything to drink.  It took me far too long to pull the mug away.  I spoke aloud, ‘I just poked myself in the eye.’

My friend said, “I know; I watched you do it in slow motion.”  I am so dignified!

My husband was so sweet and bought me a little box of chocolates.  We were sampling the variety, smelling each other’s chocolates, which I guess is a little weird in itself.  It was the end of the day, so I wanted to extinguish the candle in front of us. What did I do?  I tried to blow it out with my nose!!  I blame it on all the chocolate-sniffing.

One of our usual calls to the kids to get them ready is, ‘teeth, face, deodorant!’  It is most often the thing we holler before we head out of the house. 

But this time, just before bed, Brian called out, “Feet!”  He drew even himself up short at that!  We all stared at him and I know he was wishing he had a second pair of eyes so he could stare, too.  He said, “Did I just say feet?”  Yes, you did, dear.  And no one knows why.

If only to confirm that the poor guy needed to be in bed, he thought for a minute and decided that he was trying to call out our usual teeth, face, deodorant but accidentally blended the two words teeth and face.  Again with the staring.  How in the world do teeth plus face make feet?  Tired man seems like he needs a brain scrubbing!

Achievement

My kids had an exciting weekend.  My son tested for the next level in his red belt for tae kwon do on Friday night.  He has tested plenty of times before, but this one was a little nerve wracking.  His teacher told him that if he didn’t break his boards, he would not pass.  My son has his daddy’s long legs, so sparring is pretty easy for him.  He has a memory to beat all, so performing his form and reciting verses is something he can do on demand without much effort. That said, board breaking is his least favorite part of his class. His strength in the other areas has allowed him to skate a little on board breaking.  His teachers wanted to push him and not let him get away with being lazy.  He was pretty anxious about this task and we prayed about it all week. 

My husband took him to the testing while I hosted a Bible study and kept checking Facebook and texts for updates.  As much as we expected it, we know that bad days happen, so the reports that he flew through his sparring and then his form both came with welcome relief.  After too long a wait, we finally got word that he broke all of his boards!  Praise be!

Our daughter was preparing for a test of her own on Sunday.  She participated in a recital and had more dances than ever before, including a solo.  Let me tell you that this girl worked!  For months, she attended classes and practiced diligently at home, building strength, programming the choreography into her muscle memory and worked on elevating a series of moves to an expressive dance.  She was wonderful!  My sorrow is that we were sitting so far from the stage, that I didn’t get any photos or videos.  Great sorrow. 

Mirroring that loss, I didn’t get any footage of my boy at all.  Here are just a few pictures of them sort of around the times of their achievements.  Best I can do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dogs! Mixed Blessings

We have had an adventurous week concerning our first dog, Bailey.  Last Wednesday morning she was acting meek and needy.  That escalated through the day so that by four in the afternoon she was frantically shaking and panting.  We called all the local vets.  Some were sick, some on vacation, some didn’t answer phones.  Then there were the frustrating ones.  One lady answering the vet’s line told me I needed to get my dog in to see a vet!  Why, thank you so very much for your helpful help, you helping helper.

The only place we could get her in was the animal emergency room in Reno, so we packed her up, grabbed our girl out of dance class and headed out.  That doc suggested a disc issue and gave us some anti-inflammatory meds.  That was a rough night, but we made it through.  By four the next afternoon, Bailey hadn’t gone to the bathroom at all in over 24 hours and was still very distressed and unable to walk.  I began my round of phone calls again.  This time I got an appointment for the following morning at a vet hospital in Reno.  I looked for a ride fruitlessly, so poor Brian had to call in sick to get us there. After midnight Bailey finally went potty for the first time in something like 33 hours and I didn’t care a hoot that it was on my bedroom floor.

Friday morning we learned that Bailey’s back was indeed a problem and she would need a $5000 surgery or be paralyzed and in pain.  OH, and they don’t take payments.  Wow.  We drove home in stunned silence, each of us left to our prayers and hopes.  At least this time we had muscle relaxers to ease her pain.

That evening Brian’s brother and sister-in-law offered to loan us the money and the surgery was planned for Saturday.  We had friends visiting at the time the arrangements were made, and one offered to take us to Reno, another offered to take my kids to the Christmas cookie making party that was planned.  Isn’t God grand? 

I have to say I struggled—struggle—with spending that type of money on a pet.  We worked all that time to get debt free, and we just dove right back into it.  And worse… we are in debt to the only member of my husband’s family who’ll still speak to me!  Oh, the wisdom…

Nevertheless, off we went Saturday morning to get Bailey fixed—well, not that kind of fixed.  Fixed on the flip side.  After a mind-blowingly frustrating game of phone tag (who ever wins at that game, anyway?), we got the hap- hap- happy news on Sunday afternoon that Bailey didn’t need surgery after all!  Praise Him!  The radiological test they administered revealed healing from disc trauma.  We had to wait to hear about one more test that might indicate cancer, and then we could bring her home Tuesday.  Cancer at this point seems unlikely and we conclude our little seven day drama.

In a couple of weeks we can get the staples removed and her hair should fill in soon enough.  Our Miss Bailey is healing nicely, but we have strict orders to keep her from walking around too much or using stairs.  Boy, is that easier said than done!  She is our jumper and she gets herself up and down from the couches and beds before we can stop her.  We have to carry her in and out for every bathroom break.  She seems to think the fuss is just plain silly.  I am eager to prevent further injury.

We have spent the days since her return keeping things as low-key as possible; we are shoving drugs down her throat and carrying her to bed and potty.  One afternoon after school, I was snuggling under a blanket on the couch with my oldest kid and both dogs while I read.  My son stood up to walk away and pulled his blanket with him.  To our great surprise, we both felt … sprinkled.  What?  The blanket was wet, and my son’s sudden movement had flung the offending liquid all over us.  What could that be?  He took a sniff and shrugged his shoulder.  I just stared.  What?!

He gathered up the blanket to take to the laundry room and tosses over his shoulder, “There is a puddle on the carpet there if you want to smell it.”  What?!  Sure enough, there is a dish-sized dark spot on the carpet under where both dogs languished sleepily.  Now, I didn’t fuss when my nearly paralyzed dog piddled on the carpet in the middle of the night after holding it for over a day, but that was never intended as some sort of invitation to a new world order!  My dogs are four and five years old, for goodness’ sakes.  I am done with doggy messes on my floor!

Brian hears me holler and comes out to see what the problem is.  I tell him we don’t know the culprit, but that we had a potty accident in the living room.  While he is out there, Brian realizes the time for our daughter’s dance is approaching so he calls her name.  My son misinterprets the events and calls out, “No, she didn’t do it!” Brian and I do the slow turn to look our smart young man in the eyes.  You sure about that, Son?  Silly boy!

Meanwhile, I am mopping up the carpet while my family members make jokes and meander.  The dogs have not budged.  I am telling you, there was just not enough guilt in that room!

First Entry!

Well, I am the least disciplined person I know, so I don't know if I will be able to keep this up. But I am trying not to quit before I start just for fear of failing. :) Diane says I am the consummate blogger because my kids are at the perfect age, doing funny things everyday. I can't argue about the kids!

I don't know if I should introduce myself, or if only people who already know me will be reading this.

So, I am married to Brian and we live in NE CA in the high desert area. I have two kids, Max and Madi.

We were getting in the car to pick up Brian at work. He'd been gone a couple of days, and as consolation, I had taken the kids to the Dollar Tree to get a little toy. Madi got a bear and was being very maternal with it. So, when it was time to pick up Daddy, Madi began to narrate to the bear about what we were doing.

She talks for the bear, of course, and it seems the bear was surprised that there was a family member she hadn't met yet. Madi was explaining that while it is true that there are homes with only one parent, this one had two: a mommy and a daddy. Other homes with only one usually are that way because of divorce or death. !!

At this point, Max interrupted her and tells her to stop. She asked why. He said, 'next you are going to start talking about orphans!'

She jumped on this and said, 'oh, yes! Then there are some kids called orphans and BOTH of their parents are dead.'

Max stops her again and clarifies, 'your bear is a baby, right?' She confirms that the bear is a cub. So he continues, 'then you need to protect her from those things!'

Madi retorts, 'it is REAL. It really happens. Divorce happens, death happens. I have to tell her the truth! Like when soldiers cut off hands of the enemy so they can count the dead bodies more easily.' (I can't even remember if I taught her that from the Bible or Greek History!!)

Max is exasperated. Madi is matter-of-fact. I turned on the radio so they wouldn't hear me laugh!

This reminded me so clearly of a time a couple of years ago when we needed to buy a new dishwasher. At the store there was the line of washers up along the side wall, arranged in order by price. Brian and I stood back in wonder as we watched our kids gravitate to opposite sides of the display line. Madi stood pressing herself from knee to cheek up against the most expensive model, caressing it and begging to get the 'so pretty' one. Max was down at the other end, fist on hip, finger wagging, 'Madi, that one is over one thousand dollars! This one is 200. We need to get this one!'

What is it called when you see ghosts of the future? lol

Anyhow, after we were home from picking up Brian, I got some time alone with Madi. I wanted to figure out some more about her ideas regarding teaching kids and divorce. So I asked her when was a good time to explain to children about divorce and death.

She answered so diplomatically, 'well every mom should be able to choose if they want to tell that stuff with the kids are toddlers, older or teenagers. It is the mom's choice.'

I saw that I needed to get more pointed. 'So, when do YOU think you will share that stuff with YOUR kids?' She said she wants to teach them young, as toddlers, because she wants to start school with them right away. I didn't push any more. I had more to explore.

I asked her if she thought she would ever get a divorce. She answered that she would if she chose the wrong guy! I asked her how she would know if he was the wrong guy. She said if he didn't want to spend time with the family or if he didn't like homeschooling.

I caught that one and ran with it. 'What will you do if your husband doesn't want you to homeschool?' She was quiet a long time. She got a little embarrassed and finally said that she would homeschool and get a new husband. lol

So, I grabbed her and we sat down on the couch together. I told her that her husband is more important than homeschooling, and if he wants her to put the kids in public school, she should do so cheerfully. She was so sad!! lol She said that she wanted to teach about God. I told her that she still could when they are home and that she would need to be in the classrooms with her kids, getting to know what is taught, the friends and parents and the teachers.

I think she was really surprised by all of this. I told her that it could be avoided if she talked with the man before they talked about marriage, and let mommy and daddy become friends with him. If we all found out that there were some important things he didn't agree on, then she could tell him that they were just going to be friends. That seemed to placate her a bit. :)

OH, I am so bummed!!! I started just pouring out memories, thinking I could copy and paste them somewhere else and them post them piecemeally here again, with proper subject lines. But it won't work!!!! So now here is this long ol' post no one will read. Grr..