without him there is no family

(Photo by http://mazawi.com/ the best photographer in the world!!!)

It's Father's day and as my DH is greeted with breakfast in bed and 5 screaming happy children tossing gifts at him and spilling eggs on my just washed sheets while eating his breakfast with their sweaty little hands.  I look at the man I have been with for over 25 years, we make eye contact, and like so many times in our crazy life, we laugh.

I met my husband in high school (true story) and we have been with one another through University, marriage, a long illness and death of my father, buying two and building one house, the illness and death of his mother, then 2 years later the death of his father and the adoption of our 5 children.  He works harder than anyone I know at his job, being a great father and amazing partner.

He is a man who has always put his family first.  He never made me feel small over infertility, he never said that he didn't want a child that wasn't "blood" (I have friends and relatives who's husbands say this, it is a fact), he never complains about the kids or the messy house.  He will make dinner, do laundry, give baths and is making a chicken coop...all with a smile on his beautiful face.   He is patient.  Teaching the kids how to computer program or hammer a nail.  He thinks I'm beautiful.  He makes time for his family and loves to have friends and family over to the flying turkey for drinks and dinner.  He makes a mean guacamole at midnight in the 40 degree weather with a candle to light his way while camping with friends.

He is amazing...I really can't say enough good things about him.


He asks for nothing, yet gives so much.


He is the bearded one and he is ours.

The fair comes around once a year

R has struggles.  That being said, it does not give him a free pass on being an asshole.  I will not let his situation be a free pass on acting out.  I hate, yes I said hate, parents who allow their children to get away with murder because of their struggles.  I feel it instills in kids an excuse for misbehaving...I know, I am a bitch.

 Let me explain.

When things get rough for my son, and it does, usually in public. I have a tendency to explain the situation to people.  I don't make excuses for his behavior nor do I allow it to go on.  I explain to him and those around him how this is not how you behave. Right or wrong this is how we do things.  Life is not fair, people do not get treated the same in every situation and children have to learn this.  And this is what I mean by explaining...am I making any sense???

A dear friend of mine tells her son that, "the fair comes around once a year and it has left town!!", I love this statement.  Think about it.  In your family, mom and dad are treated differently than the kids, the kids get treated differently, before you go shit balls crazy hear me out.  A three year old does not get treated like your 10 year old...do they?  NO!  If you treated everyone in the house the same what a complete disservice you do to your kids.  Now, there are ways the kids have to do similar things, chores, bed, brush teeth etc. ...but if you think I let a three year old use the stove because her sister does and she thinks it's, "unfair".  Well suck it up.

Life, she isn't fair.

Back to R.  He has auditory sensory issues and is rarely without his noise cancelling headphones.  He uses a personal FM system in the classroom and when we go places so that my voice goes directly into his ears.  He wears thick glasses with bifocals and still has vision issues after 3 surgeries.  He does not tolerate the feel of some clothing, he prefers loose fitting pj's.  He didn't speak until he was three and still sees a speech therapist weekly.  He does homework 365 days a year and sees a year round tutor.  He has asthma and is allergic to anything that has a stinger.  He has had 3 sets of tubes for his ears and his adnoids removed.  He has hypothyroidism that caused him to spend too much time in the hospital last summer.  He has nervous ticks that are chewing his hands, itching body parts until they are raw and snarfing (a fancy term for sniffing with his nose loudly and repeatedly).  He will repeat himself quite a few times until he can get his thoughts together so what he wants to say comes out.  He gets scared of leaving the house, having his hair cut, loud noises and the birds outside his window which he says, "they are angry birds mom...they CAWWWACAEEEAAEEEEE  at me all morning", he is frightened of the dark or any light being shut off.  He closes all the doors in the house all day long...this is a short list.

See.  Life is not fair.



Now, here's the other list.  He loves to laugh.  He will give you a hug like no one has ever given you.  He cares about his sisters and tells them daily how much he loves them.  He feels more empathy than any child I have met.  He has the craziest imagination and tells the best stories.  He makes some mean chili.  He will carry his lizard around to show her what everyone is doing.  He makes us laugh with his rap songs and "cool moves".  He loves Indian food.  He pats S's back to put her to sleep.  He loves to snowboard, hula hoop, jump rope and ride his bike.  He can tell you anything you never wanted to know about Bey Blades. He likes to introduce people to his family.  His smile is addictive, people are drawn to his energy.  He knows when he can't handle a situation and ops out. He is learning to use the phone (thanks Sarah).  He is the only one of my children that I love to take to the market...you come home with 30 bouncy balls, no groceries and  a "plan".  He will make you believe.

I do not make excuses for him.  He is as God made him.

And he has made me a better person by being his mom.

roll the orange!

We like to have family meetings.


I know it sounds odd, but we always have.  When you are dealing with five kids with different personalities you have to sit everyone down and sort the shit out.  One of the kids favorite meetings is when we "roll the orange".  This usually only happens when NOBODY is getting along, though we have done it just for fun more than once.


How it started was last summer the kids started being mean to one another, yelling, stomping, taking crap that wasn't theirs just to hear someone yell...come on now, don't lie, we have allllll been there.  Anyhoo, I was sick and tired of the yelling and sassy mouths toward one another so I called them all to Bruce (the dinning room table) and announced a family meeting.


Bruce was cleared off and everyone took their seats, I grabbed the item closest to me as a "talking stick" and it was an orange.  I told the kids that they had to roll it to one of their siblings and say something nice about them...it worked!!


They rolled that orange back and forth, they said they loved one another, they liked playing together.  Then all the yelling turned into laughter and they were sharing seats and touching...not hitting.  When we were all done and they were making their plans for a mud pile in the front yard, I told them what a great meeting it was and they could go play...then R screamed "NO!!". I asked why?


He said, "Let's eat all the love we put in the orange!"


And they did...true story.

along came S...

Ok, here we go.

First I have to say is that what it comes down to, if i make a promise, I stick to it. I had made a promise to Frannie that we would keep in contact with her, meetings, letters, pictures etc. and true to my word for the past almost 10 years I have kept this promise and will continue too.  There is no legal open adoption, we made plans and because of those plans and not lying or changing our minds, our children came to us.  I sometimes think where R and S would be if I didn't keep my promise.  If I didn't return calls or meet with Frannie...where would my children be?

After we had moved across the state from Ann Arbor to Kzoo, we kept in contact with Frannie. She was living with a guy in Ann Arbor and he said he loved her...you see where this is going. Now, before you get on your high horses and say, "how dare a woman has 3 babies from 3 different men!!". I know more than 5 GUYS, who have 3 children from 3 different woman and they don't even see these kids at the same time, nor do the siblings live together. Families are made up differently today and we are lucky for it.

What she has done in her own way is to see that her 3 birth children are living under one roof.  Knowing they will live together, grow together and take care of each other.

S was born at 5:30 in the morning, I was able to be there and sing her happy birthday.  She had to be born 5 weeks earlier than what she should had, there were complications.  I sang her happy birthday just like I did for K and R.  I was able to cry with joy for a beautiful baby girl entering this world and cry with the pain that Frannie was in.  S couldn't maintain a body temp and had to stay under the heat lamp a lot.  She weighed just under 4 pounds and had to be fed 1/2 oz of formula every hour.  You had to uncover her feet and either tickle them or blow on them to get her to suck...sometimes you had put your pinkie on the roof of her mouth to get her eat.  She was tiny, she was grey, she was beautiful and full of life.

S spent 8 days in the hospital.  And what hurts my heart to this day is, that because of what happen, we were not able to be with her, we couldn't hold her, sing to her, feed her.  The NICU staff was amazing and even though it was against the rules, they let me call and check on her and they called me...truth be told, they could have lost their jobs, but they knew that my heart could not handle not knowing.  During this time Frannie had made her wishes clear to social workers and hospital staff and her parents.

Then, S's birth father who had never came to the hospital, who left, kicked  Frannie out of the apartment when she was pregnant decided he would like to parent.

I shit you not.

There were meetings we went to where we just sat.  Remember, we were no one, we were invited by Frannie to attend as her "friends" and that was it.  He was not able to take care of a child, he had no job, his brother paid for his rent, cell phone and for food.  He wanted S because he said she was his.  A possession. Not a child who needed around the clock care.  She was to him just a thing, that he made, that was his, so he gets to keep her.  He had no plan...he had many other issues.

The state got involved.

His parental rights were taken away.  (Yes, we met with him so he could see that S was happy and healthy, we sent him photos, we met with his brother.  I keep a promise)

Frannie never wavered in her decision.  Even when he told her they could be a "family".  She was brave and outspoken and I sat in awe of her strength.

We took the other two to pick her up.  We didn't tell them what we were doing until we were in the car driving.  K threw up!!  No shit.  She was so excited and filled with joy she puked on the side of 94, got back in the van and ate a sandwich.  And for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime, we laughed.

We laughed away the craziness that tried to take over,

We laughed at the kids making up names like, R 2 or Peaches.

We laughed, because the day was too perfect.

We laughed because we were tired of crying.

this house is no museum

I was day dreaming with the Pottery Barn catalog, we all know that it sells and idea of perfection and I was wondering how I would describe our house...

We have seven people living in this house with one dog, two bearded dragons and a guinea pig (the tortoise just died).  The 5 kids are ten and younger and love to do art projects that I proudly hang on the walls.  The windows are covered with finger prints and the sofa with crumbs.  The front driveway is scattered with sidewalk chalk, bikes, leaves and plastic glasses of one kind or another.  The backyard has filthy stuffed animals and broken toys that found their death by being pitched off the deck.  And truth be told, I toss dead flowers and watermelon rinds trying to make them land in my neighbors yard...throw me a bone I'm a stay at home mom!

Laundry is never caught up, well, maybe only for a day or two.  The dishes...I can't even talk about the dishes.  The walls have little fingerprints and if you look close have faded artwork from washable markers that are not really that frick'n washable.  The main floor bathroom needs bleaching on almost a daily basis and it gets it about once a week.  

The basement where 2 of the girls sleep has a bathroom that has been banned from liquid hand soap, bubble bath, toothpaste and I have threatened to turn the water off.  It's like a woman's prison down there, they have to ask for what they need.  Now, you may think that this is harsh, but you get tired of almost killing yourself sliding across a vinal floor daily and drastic measures need to be taken.

The dusty mantel holds pictures of family members who have passed away, baby photos of the children and memories from Ethiopia and life in general.  I talk to the photos (don't judge) when I miss my father or my husband's parents.  This is one spot in the house that keeps me grounded.

The kitchen is always busy with my prayer candles burning and my makeshift altars to remember who I am saying a prayer for.  The front door is always opened even before we had a screen door I used a baby gate.  The fridge is covered with reminders for field trips, bake sales, birthday parties, vacation plans, a half filled out calendar and more fingerprints...stainless steel seemed so cool at the time :-/.  The sinks with dishes, the dishwasher with dishes, the stove with pots and pans...

Our dining room table is named Bruce and she expands to hold 14 people.  I am happy to say she is often to her full capacity.  The chairs where you sit have different coverings on them, my way of refusing to buy a full amount of fabric until I know it will stand up to my kids...it never does.  They could make me a fortune in R and D at a textile house.

The house is full.

Full of laughter, full of pride, full of tickles, giggles, snorts and hugs.  It is full of listening and helping one another.  It is full of yelling, when we are happy, sad, mad or just talking (there is 7 of us).  The door is always open for those who wish to come in.  It is full of love and like.  Hopes and dreams...and sometimes tears.  It is a home.

It is our home.

It is not a museum.

doers, talkers and whiners

I was sitting,drinking coffee...eating ramen (don't hate) and thinking about things I had to do: making chex mix with my Girl Scout troop, help with the Bishop's reception with scout troops (I still have no idea how I ended up on this committee), look over the lesson for GOTR, planning and hosting 2 bridal showers, checking to see if Blessings in a Backpack has found me a school to volunteer at, planning K's sleepover, making meals for a neighbor who is hungry, building a chicken coop, taking in another bearded dragon, saying prayer for people who ask for them or just those that need a little boost...the list does go on.

I (along with my DH...I recently found out what that meant :)) have adopted 5 children, 2 from Africa, we built a house (ok, we had it built), we drive super old cars, have a veggie garden in the front yard, clothes line on the deck, give time to the kids school teaching religion and teaching the youngsters where their food comes from...etc.

Now, you probably think, "who the hell does this lady think she is??" or "she thinks she's SOMETHING (insert eye roll)", "who is this bitch???". Well, it is none of those.

The reason I am telling you this is because I, like everyone, like to think of myself as "something", a mother, wife, friend, cupcake maker, animal poop cleaner, laundress. And I, like to think of myself as a "doer". Someone who does things, someone who is actively participating in their life and their community. When I set out to start my day, week, month, I don't always feel I do this and by no means am I bragging. I really only to brag about my wonderfully talented and well behaved children. I am trying to tell everyone that you can do it...you can let the dishes sit in the sink and stop by the ______________, and give a few hours or a hour.

And truth be told, am fascinated with "talkers"...

You know what I mean. The folks who talk about how they would love to volunteer for an hour at _________, but I am SOOOOOOOOOO busy. How, if they just had the time they would drive a little out of their way to drop off donations to the food pantry, but they are SOOOOOOO busy. The folks that say, "Oh MY GOD!!! we soooooooooo wanted to adopt, then we got pregnant" or "We are soooooo going to adopt, when we have the time". These people, to me, are like zoo animals or goldfish. Going around and around and pretending to live life through words. They are all talk and no action.

These folks, to me, are missing out on some of the best experiences...people you meet, going places you never thought about going to, things you never thought about doing. It's like the guy who sits around watching sports all day, bitching about a team that he was never involved in while his kid stands in the front yard throwing a football to himself...wake up!!!

Oh, this rant is not done.

The one type of person that makes my irish skin crawl are the "whiners". You heard me, the folks who say that they have nothing and when you try to help out they bitch because the food came from Walmart! WTF people. They complain when the sun is shining because it's too hot and when it's raining (even though this makes the flowers grow). They get so caught up in there own bubble that they turn it into a "shame spiral" constantly feeling that they are owed by the world and that they have been wronged and no one, not even Job himself have suffered as much as them...bitch please.

These folks need to look at the roof over their heads, their spouses, their children, the sun in the sky, the Walmart food on their table and take in joy from EVERYTHING or else their little tornado of doom will wreck their houses. These folks, in my eyes need to volunteer and help people. To be around people who will make them think twice about bitching just because they are in the "shame spiral" and nothing they get from other people can help. They have to help themselves, change their attitude, smile at the sun and laugh at the rain (no, I'm not drunk!).

To these folks I say, tap your ruby slippers together quickly before your life flies on by and you're left whining to yourself in a mirror, with a face like a slapped ass staring back at you.

Rant. Done.

nap time...

When you have a baby you have a free pass to nap. You rock them to sleep and then you get to close your eyes and listen to them breathe and smell their head and before you know it you are whisked away that amazing place, napville. As the kids grew in numbers and age I would get a chance to visit, but never for as long as I wanted.

Then it happened.

It's spring break, the kids are tired and happy to home and "relax" for a while. Then R said that we were all bitten by the lazy bug...he was right, and there was only one thing to do. We all crawled into my bed, we must have looked like a murder scene. We curled up together, hands and feet, laying everywhere, little mouths open, eyes closed. Their heads are just as sweet smelling and listening to them breathe lulled me back to napville...and I got to visit for quite awhile.