Last Squishy School Class

Last night was our final P.R.I.D.E. class.  And, let me tell you, it was the toughest of all.  Last night we covered sexual abuse in thorough, heartbreaking detail.  I cried.  Cowboy had to leave the room.  The things we can't begin to imagine, can't bear to listen to or think about, are things these poor Squishies have had to endure.  The hardest part wasn't hearing the stories.  The hardest part was knowing that we couldn't just scoop up every last one of these kids and promise them we would never let anyone hurt them again.

So now, we move on to the investigation portion.  We have our Home Visit next week, which is when a Case Worker will come to our house, look in all our drawers, and tell us what we need to change.  Yes, I'm exaggerating a bit.  But basically, that's what's happening.  After we get our home in order, the FBI investigation begins.  And after that, finally, we get to start meeting Squishies!  I am so excited for that part!

If you have ever given even a moment's thought to adoption or being a Foster Parent, I encourage you to go to an Information Meeting.  There are so many areas in which you can make a difference.  Even if it is as simple as donating diapers and baby formula to a local shelter.  You CAN make a difference in the life of a child!  Every small act of kindness makes an enormous impact on kids in Care.

Here are some links!

Court Appointed Special Advocates for children

Texas Dept. of Families

Heart Gallery of America

Siblings

I can't imagine what my life would have been like, if I'd grown up without siblings.  I have 2 big brothers.  Strong, dependable, protective, silly brothers.  I can remember, when I was really little, thinking those two boys were the coolest boys on Earth!  They played sports and worked on cars and took karate classes.  They were my big brothers, and they could do no wrong!  I also have 3 big sisters.  Wow, the things I learned from them!  I learned about hair and makeup and fashion, sure.  But, I also learned about loyalty.  Trust.  Forgiveness.  My sisters have always been my best friends.  My voices of reason.  The shoulders I cried on.  My cheering section.  And, sometimes, the partners in crime that kept my life so beautiful and interesting!

I know there are a lot of people who don't have that kind of relationship with their siblings.  I get it, I guess.  Your circumstances and experiences shape your relationships.  I am so unspeakably thankful that I have such a close relationship with my siblings.  I know that I have learned real life lessons and coping skills because of them.  My Cowboy and I work to foster that kind of closeness in our kids.  And, when Squishy joins our family, I pray he feels it, too.

Used Children

Well, that got your attention, didn't it?  What a horrible, heart breaking thought.  But, they are everywhere.  Children who have been abused, abandoned, ignored.  Used.  And, you pretty much expect to see that when dealing with CPS and the Foster Care system.  You know what you don't think about?  The children being used by "good" parents.  The ones with divorced parents, who become bargaining chips.  Chess pieces.  Weapons.  I was very young when my parents divorced.  My father rarely came around, there were no summer trips or alternating holidays.  Honestly, there was little or nothing from him at all.  But, what stays with me to this day, was how my mom treated him.  And how she insisted - and still does - that we treat him with respect.  Not because he deserved it, because God knows he never earned it.  But, because she raised us to be better.  To treat all people with respect.

Now I'm going to step on some toes.  You know who I see pulling this nonsense?  Women!  You very rarely see men doing this.  It's the moms.  And I won't get into the whole "Well, you don't know what he put me through" conversation.  Because, you're right.  I don't know.  And, I pray your kids don't know either.  Because it isn't their burden to carry.  Yes, he may have screwed you over.  And I'd bet money you had one or two times where you got him good, too.  But, your JOB as a parent is to protect your kids.  That means protecting their hearts, too.  Teaching a child that his parent is a bad person will teach that child that he is bad, too.  Because we know that who we are is largely because of who our parents are. We are who we come from.

My heart hurts for these kids.  My heart hurts for these parents.  My heart hurts for the future of our Country, because it will be in the hands of Used Children.  If we are who we come from, does that mean we are raising a generation of users?

Our Life Book

A major assignment for Squishy School is that we create our family Life Book. This is a combination scrap book/photo album that the kids can look at, while they're deciding if they want to get to know is better. It will also be used, when we've connected with the boy who is to be our son, to help convince a judge that we will be the right family for him. Let me just say that is a lot of responsibility to place on a book. Which means, it's a heavy load on my shoulders to get this book done. And to get it right. How am I to "sell" our family? Please, pick me. I'm a dork, my husband is a Cowboy and our kids are nerds. Who could resist that kind of charm?! I'm super nervous, is what I'm saying. And I'm dragging my feet to get it started. But there isn't a whole lot of time left, and I need to get my butt in gear!

My Cowboy and Me

1.I am a morning person.
   He is a zombie.

2. I love sushi.
    Him, not so much.

3.He hates snakes.
   I hate spiders.

4. He remembers every moment of every day of his entire life.
   I can't remember what clothes I wore yesterday.

5.He is a superhero aficionado.
  I'm hooked on Nicholas Sparks novels.

6. I love scary movies.
   He loves scaring me when I'm trying to watch scary movies.

7. I second-guess my every move.
   He has a quiet confidence and inner strength that could move mountains.

8. He's a hard-headed redneck.
    I'm a red-headed she-devil.

9. He loves his big, furry beard.
   I miss his face.

10. He has every ounce of my heart.
      I have his, too.  We're not so different after all.


How are you and your love different?

Squishy School

One of the requirements for potential Foster/Adoptive parents in the state of Texas is certification classes, called PRIDE. PRIDE is an anagram for Parent Resource Information Development Education. That is quite a mouth full, so we just call it Squishy School. The hardest part so far has been the mountain of homework that comes with the class. This is on top of what's covered in the class itself. It's a lot, is what I'm saying. But, I know that we are soon to be covering extremely tough ground in the next week, and I'll be wishing I was focused only on paperwork. Say a prayer for us, we're gonna need it!

Mouse

This boy. He has my whole heart. He loves so freely, openly, unapologetically. He is my Mouse, and I'm a goner!

Dang Thieves!

I was planning to write today about Squishy School.  I was going to share a little about the parenting classes and and the homework and the funny, charming CPS caseworker and the insane amount of homework associated with it.  But, then I got a phone call.  My bank, you see, was kind enough to call and inform me that my debit card has been cancelled.  For the second time in as many years, my card has been cloned.  And they got me for nearly $2000.  I'm furious.  And broke.  I don't know how this whole thing works.  I don't know if someone somehow got my information yesterday (the fraudulent charges began last night) or if they've had it for a while, and just now got around to using it.  I do know that I have never been to College Station, which is where the charges were made.  I also know that I work my tail off for my money, and I need it.  I am all about giving to charity and helping others whenever I can.  But there are limits.  And I hate a thief.  So today I'm just going to pray.  I'll pray for the grace to forgive them.  I'll pray that my bank sees fit to return all of my money to me.  And, if I'm being honest, I'm going to pray that whoever did this is caught and punished.  Because I'm human, after all.  And I hate a dang thief.  Amen.

What's Next?

One of the things I love most about my marriage is how abnormally in sync with one another we are.  This is not "oh, my marriage is so perfect" drivel.  This is just fact.  We work.  We get each other.  When we had the first adoption conversation, it was eerily simple.  "I was thinking..." and "yeah, I was thinking the same thing..."  It just fit, it made sense, it was "us".  And, I know that we are going to really need that closeness and understanding in the months to come.

I work full time.  I like my job, I'm good at what I do, and I'm well compensated for it.  I ain't quitting, is what I'm saying.  And there's nothing wrong with that.  We have kids to put through college and weddings to pay for; Mama needs to work.  So, we knew adopting a baby was not the right fit for our family.  Let's not even mention the fact that Mama is 41, and her baby days are long gone.  And, let's face it, there are so many thousands of couples waiting in line to adopt babies.  But, what about the older kids?  The ones whose parents were unable or unwilling to accept the responsibility of raising them.  The ones who've been beaten, starved, hurt, molested, ignored, abandoned.  The ones who live in foster homes or group homes, who've lost faith in the whole concept of family.

That's where our hearts are.  Those are the kids we feel drawn to.  And so, Cowboy and I are adopting through Child Protective Services.  Yes, I know there can be many, many challenges we'll face from going that route.  Obviously, we've taken a minute to think this through.  We know it will be tough, and we willingly accept the challenge.  We went to the initial Information Meeting a little over a month ago.  And, last week, we began our first requirement, P.R.I.D.E. classes.  I'll be calling it "Squishy School" from now on. "I shall call him Squishy and he shall be mine and he shall be my Squishy".  Name that movie!

Nobody Really Talks About That

I am a mom.  It seems really simple, doesn't it?  I have a child, therefor I am a mom.  I've been a mom for 23 years, and my son is 12 years old.  But, nobody really talks about that.  I had a daughter.  A beautiful,blue eyed, blonde haired, severely disabled, congenitally terminal daughter.  She was a fighter.  But, her disabilities were too much for her to overcome.  She died when she was 4.  But, nobody really talks about that.

In 2007, I discovered a "something".  I was young(er) and thin back then, so it was quite obvious.  I would lie on my back, and there was this small, hard bump in my belly, just right of my navel.  It didn't hurt, it didn't move or flutter.  It was just there.  It took me 5 months - and several other symptoms - to finally see a doctor.  I had a tumor on my right ovary. But, since I'd waited so long to have it checked, it had grown substantially.  So, in addition to this 17-pound-basketball of a tumor, my entire womb was removed.  To say I was relieved would be an understatement.  It was over, I was fine.  Mostly.  Except I would never be a mother again.  But, nobody really talks about that.

It's been 8 years now.  I'm healthy.  I have a wonderful husband.  I have children and step-children whom I adore.  Life is really good.  But, you know what?  I want more.  I want a bigger family.  My husband and I want to adopt a child.  And, I'm going to talk about that!