Even in Summer

I realize this is the second story of its kind in less than a month, but this is what I've got.

I'm writing on my blog and my girls are playing dress-up in the playroom.  One comes down every five or seven minutes to ask for something, report something, or to show off something.  It's working.

It wasn't a terrible surprise to see a little girl come down wearing nothing but a safari vest asking for help to zip it up.  I asked why she wasn't wearing any other clothes.  She explained that she was going exploring.  I asked again why she wasn't wearing clothes; explorers do wear clothes.  She answered plaintively: "It's summer!" (We'll ignore that an hour ago I said that I thought this was the coldest day that ever happened anytime, anywhere.)

Well, baby, even in summer, we wear clothes.  We just do!

It's My Birthday

Today is my birthday! Last year we had an 80s-themed murder mystery party.  It was so much fun that I decided that this is who I'm going to be: the murder mystery party gal!  Yes, I am! 

This year, the timing is such that my husband and I are sharing the party; it's going to happen on his birthday.  And our theme? Time travel steampunk! I can hardly wait.

Meantime, today is my birthday.  I'm another year older.  It's a blessing.  I'm thankful for every birthday. My big sister stopped having them ten years ago. I hate that.  I am older than she'll ever be, and that is plain old wrong. So, I'm old, getting older, and needing to get older so that these girls don't lose a second momma.

Thank you, Lord, for my life.  For my heart beating and lungs breathing.  And for the people I know and things I get to do.  Please keep this heart beating and lungs breathing.  Don't give up on my flaws. Finish the work you started. Keep growing me up so that the people who love me are more blessed than burdened.

Boiling Water

A friend once talked to me about how boiled water boils again more easily.  It struck me both spiritually and practically.  I want to be in my Word and in prayer so frequently that pressing in without notice is second nature. I’d like my body and soul to be so practiced at listening to the Lord that I am instinctively inclined to it.

On the practical side, I like to boil water.  Like, I really like to boil water.  It’s become a bit of an obsession and it makes me unreasonably happy to do it.  It started last year when I was working at a private preschool.  I worked the full day, teaching Kindergarten in the morning and PreK in the afternoon. I didn’t have loads of downtime at the building for bathroom or eating breaks. Winters are cold here, so I lived on hot tea.  I got into the habit of turning on the tea kettle whenever I passed the kitchen so that when I needed more hot water, it would boil more quickly.

Now that I am home, I like to boil water to pour down my sink.  It cleans, disinfects, and dries the sink in one step.  I like that!  And, if I have guests or the girls come in from playing in the snow, a hot drink is ever-ready.  So, I boil water. Often. For your pleasure, I included a photo of my little friend. 

Music of Our Lives

I made another playlist today.  As I was scrolling through my music library, it was like looking through a photo album.  My music tells a story.  The most recent songs include one I enjoyed from church, some John Denver songs that have been turned into books (which I bought for Christmas), and that APT song by Rose and Bruno Mars that is on all FB reels right now.

Next comes an album and several singles by Lauren Daigle because I went to her concert.  Then I have the fourth Mockingjay Soundtrack because I ate up that music before I even heard it (the book made me want to watch the movie just so I could hear the music).  I can’t tell you why I have Diana DeGarmo’s I believe and a couple of songs from Jesus Christ Superstar after that.

The next song is another from FB Reels: Adele’s Rolling in the Deep. Another inspiration from FB is a girl I assume is Irish called Aimee Carty.  I snagged each song available on iTunes, lamenting that one wasn’t available.  Now I am embarrassed to say that the next is yet another FB song about feelings by Heidi Rojas.

And on it goes, telling my story as I see an album by Peter, Paul, & Mary I got for my students last year.  I also have a whole album of international music because we did a unit where we virtually traveled the world.  I have some story albums and a Mr. Rogers album to help the girls with their first long trip out of the state.

I remember when I reignited my love for 90s country music with a Judds album and Goodbye Earl. Then I saw tons of 80s songs because for my birthday we hosted an 80s-themed murder party. Christmas music follows the 80s; that makes sense because I’m a January baby.

I continued scrolling to find instrumental music because the awesome teacher conference we attended to begin the 23-24 year had a speaker who told us to have music going all the time. So I have lots and lots and lots of classical and instrumental music.  Hymns galore.

These big themes are punctuated by songs like ‘Mother’ (Meghan Trainor); ‘Surfin’ U.S.A. (The Beach Boys); ‘Raspberry Beret’ (Prince); ‘Christ Be Magnified’ (Cody Carnes); or ‘Classical Gas’ (Mason Williams) because…why not?  Actually, I remember that I got the Beach Boys for a fun PE activity for my class.  They took turns sliding gymnastic mats across the gym.

I have the Hamilton soundtrack, which accompanied me while I prepped my class the previous year.  I have Hap Palmer because someone said he was cool for kids. I got Jim Gill’s albums because he was the speaker at the previous year’s training and he and his music are awesome. Going further back I find the music my husband and I danced to for that little bitty sliver of time when we were nearly retired empty nesters and took up ballroom dancing—we performed at the state fair!

On and on it goes—the chronicles of my days in music.  I can see music from my first job in the new state, what I downloaded for the drive halfway across the country, the music I listened to when I worked at the church in California, the favorite songs of our beloved and deeply missed first foster girl…

It’s a beautiful thing.  What’s in your music library?

My Little Dream

 My Little Dream

Did I mention I got a new-to-me van?  It is very exciting—in a thrilling and nail-biting way.  Our insurance went up unexpectedly, and I worry I hurt our family trying to afford a second vehicle.  AND at the same time, I live in a state of relief because I can get us out of the house.  If there is an emergency, I have a van with car seats and I am ready to go.  (If the emergency is that we have been cooped up far too long and we need to get out to avoid carnage, so be it.)

Well, I have been doing a little dreaming with this newfound freedom. I want to travel.  My bigs and husband all have to work, so it is not feasible to get us all vacationing together.

Next year we will have a fourth-grader, which means National Parks are free for the family.  I’ve never been to a National Park, despite growing up in a state with one of the highest numbers of them.  Now we live in a state with zero. 

For my first trip, I want to go west so the girls can meet their new family members.  In subsequent years, I would like to go east to visit beloved friends and perhaps see historical monuments to align with our school when the next one is in fourth grade.

My oldest daughter and I mapped out a route to see people we love plus six National Parks and 13 states!  Since it’s dreaming, we also hit Disneyland and the ocean—because how can we go so close without visiting? Drive time alone is just under four days.  Can I do it?

Is It Luck?

Sometimes people don’t know what to say when they learn we adopted three girls.  Other times people genuinely mean to say that the girls are lucky we adopted them.  And I cringe every time. 

My oldest daughter has surging feelings whenever she hears it.  Who would call a child born positive for drugs lucky? Or one raised in an abusive or neglectful home?  What is lucky about living in an apartment with an empty fridge or maggots in the corners? And most universal to adoption stories, what child is lucky to lose his or her first family? It’s best not to suggest to our firstborns that their younger siblings are lucky.

My thoughts on it are a little different.  First, I rarely use the term lucky for any situation.  I don’t believe in luck.  Setting it aside and dealing with the actual intent of the statement, I am equally uncomfortable with my littles being called lucky.  While my oldest girl focuses on the circumstances that allowed us to adopt, I am acutely aware of my failings.  I am not a perfect mom.  I am not a perfect anything.  That might seem trite or inspire an eyeroll, but I am being very serious.  These girls have been through enough; they don’t need a lousy mom.  I’m aware of how frequently I mess up and can make myself crazy thinking about the ways I may be messing up without knowing about it!  What’s lucky about being raised by someone like that?

My sister has another perspective.  Her mouth is too colorful to quote, so I will paraphrase. She says we retired and could have followed the American Dream scheme and lived a lifestyle that didn’t include scraping money together or doing without some luxuries we ‘earned.’  Our daily life could have been my pursuing a career in my interests and my husband enjoying well-deserved rest.  We could travel and dance and play.  We could have a disposable income!

Instead, we decided to jump back into the thick of child-rearing at the cusp of empty nesting.  These girls have been through trauma—and so have countless others.  Some of those others won’t be adopted.  They won’t land in a permanent place with people they can call their own.  In her more aggressively-phrased way, my sister says we’re freaking amazing (but she didn’t say freaking).

That makes me so uncomfortable!  I was uncomfortable enough to end the conversation, and very uncomfortable writing it here. The good that comes from it is a determination to make my life agree with her assessment.  I pray, “Let it be, Lord!”  Let me be freaking amazing! Let the girls be blessed with a healthy permanent family to change their statistical trajectory.  And, Lord—Lord—please save those masses of other kids who need the same!

It's Been a Rough Week

 I’ve been writing this post in my head for days.  I keep going round and round about the title. 

Breaking The Cycle
It Ends With You
It’s Me, The Problem is Me
Do You Really Expect Them to Fix it On Their Own? (Ya Dummy)

What do you think?  We are having a week!  Like, the entire week feels like one interminable Monday. There are times when all the training just goes out the window.  When I am worn down and can't remember the last break I got, I feel like two people.  There is the rational part of me who knows what would help.  And there is the exhausted shell-of-a-woman part of me that can't muster the best practices. The girls are stubborn, needy, mean, argumentative, demanding, whiney, mean, disobedient, aggressive, disrespectful, loud, distracted, and mean. 

At one point I told one that she cannot play with her sisters anymore because she is not being kind.  She yelled that she was just about to change it when I interrupted.  Oh, really?  I just looked at her.  She might actually believe that she can be mean and had planned on changing her behavior seconds AFTER I intervened, and that I am the unreasonable one.  I could almost go along with her narrative if she changed her behavior even once.

After steeping in this yuck for a week, I feel just as mean and ugly as they are.  I want them to shape up so I can get in a better mood.  Whoops!

Can you hear the record scratch and breaks screech? Yeah, me, too.  It doesn’t make me happy or the situation any easier, but I at least have a cognitive understanding that they aren’t going to get out of the mire on their own. *Sigh* I’m going to have to be the grown-up and press into the Holy Spirit to scrub me clean and fill me up.  I need to be the change because this is definitely not working.