Today I got peed on twice.
Today I pulled a stuffed animal out of my toilet, and there were other things floating in there too.
I am not joking.
Today I fell asleep and snored myself awake.
Today I thought if I could just squeeze in a 5 to 10 hour nap, I might be functional enough to carry on a conversation at dinner.
Today, before church, I took a smelly kitchen rag and scrubbed crusty snot and slobber off my dress.
Today I found out our two short-term placement kids will indeed be short-term.
They are going home soon.
The moment I find out kids are leaving is the moment when every part of me buckles. My heart celebrates and collapses in the same beat. I want to cry out "YES!" and "NO!" all in one breath.
No matter how prepared I think I am, I am not.
I never am.
Surprisingly, I will miss the hilarity of stuffed animals drowning in toilets. I will miss chasing a slippery, 2 year-old, bathtub-escapee around the house insisting he put on pajamas. I will miss hearing a sweet 4-year-old say in her squeaky lisp...
"That'th tho 'mathin!" (That's so amazing!)
Today I will cry.
Today I will smile.
Today begins the odd mixture of grief and delight.
Delight for a family being restored.
Grief for us...a family having to let go.
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
GF chocolate chip cookie recipe
In a heavy-duty mixer:
2 sticks butter, room temperature
1 cup white sugar
1 cup brown sugar
Mix until combined.
Once that is combined add:
2 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla
Mix.
Then add:
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
2 3/4 cup gf oatmeal
1 cup rice flour
1 1/4 cup all purpose gf flour
Mix again.
Then add the good stuff:
1 bag chocolate chips and 1 chopped chocolate bar
OR
1/2 bag chocolate chips and 1/2 bag butterscotch chips
OR
craisins
OR
1 bag white chocolate chips and dried cherries
Now comes the gf trick.
Put the dough in the freezer for about 10 to 15 minutes until it is cold.
Then roll a large teaspoon full of dough into a ball a little smaller than a ping-pong ball.
Place on greased cookie sheet about 3 inches apart.
Bake for 10 to 12 minutes at 350 degrees.
Cookies do NOT look done when you take them out. But they are.
And they are GOOD.
This is a variation on the cookies my mom always made for us. I had to adjust the flour and oatmeal a bit...but other than that it is the same. They are delicious.
* To make these cookies gluten-y replace rice and gf flour with 2 cups of wheat flour. Reduce oatmeal to to 2 1/2 cups. Do not freeze, and make cookies a little larger than a golf ball instead of smaller than a ping-pong ball.
GF Apple Cake
Everyone in our house LOOOOVES this recipe except for my gluten-free child. Ironic, isn't it?
Oven at 400 degrees.
On the stove, melt 1/2 stick of butter in a cast iron skillet.
Peel and dice one apple.
In a bowl dump:
1 cup rice flour
3/4 cup all purpose gluten-free flour
2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt
1/2 cup sugar
3 or 4 shakes (or more) of cinnamon
Don't stir yet...
Then make a well in the dry ingredients and add:
1 egg
3/4 cup milk
1/4 cup cooking oil
diced apple
Now stir, but not too much. Just until the ingredients are mixed together.
Pour into the cast iron skillet.
Bake in the oven for about 20 minutes...
While cake is baking...
Melt in a small pot:
1/2 stick of butter
3-4 big spoonfuls of brown sugar
Once the sugar and butter are melted together
stir in about 1/2 cup powdered sugar.
If it is gloppy add a little milk and stir until it is the consistency of honey.
Pour over hot cake...
So amazing.
You will love it.
Monday, May 6, 2013
Well? Can you?
I am very familiar with hearing "I can't."
Our sweet new kids says "I CAN'T" with wild abandon. The other kids say it as well, but adding two more kid saying "I CAAAAAN'T" means I am hearing this phrase about 78,986 times per day..or at least that is what it feels like.
Corban says, "I can't practice piano NOW!"
Ms. Sweetie says, "I CAN'T eat THAT!"
Joseph and Judsen say, "I CANNOT MISS Duck Dynasty!!"
Celee and Mia both say they CANNOT speak in public.
TC is absolutely positive he CANNOT do dishes AND sweep!!
I CAN'T...the phrase uttered inaccurately and with HUGE frequency around here. I despise "I can't" because it is illogical to assume you can't do something you haven't tried. It is irrational to assert you CAN'T because something may be irritating or inconvenient at that particular time.
Maybe it is ridiculous for me to expect rational thought and logic from children...
I do, however, expect it from adults.
Because adults ARE more rational, thoughtful, logical beings.
Maybe.
I can't...with grown-ups.
#1 conversation I have with people about our family...
"Did you adopt?"
"Yes, we did foster-adopt through the state."
Which is followed by:
"I can't do that, I would just get too attached."
I disagree with this "I can't" foster care philosophy.
Let's discuss...
What is right?
We try and teach our children to do things that are right but still hard. Maybe on a slightly smaller scale, but as parents we do try...we teach them to talk to the alienated kid, we teach them to wash their clothes, eat their broccoli, clean their rooms, change their underwear...any one of these could be construed as something that is "hard" for a kid, but they have to do it because it is the RIGHT thing to do in the name of hygiene, health, or kindness.
When they get older we try and get them to choose the RIGHT vocation. Even if it means going to 4 or more years of college (hard). We try and get them to break up with a super-attractive girlfriend because she is a cheater (hard). We, over and over, repeat that they need to make the RIGHT decision.
We spend countless hours trying to teach our children to be helpful, be kind, put other people's needs ahead of their own...because we know that "right" is not always "easy."
Attachment.
If you ask any foster parent anywhere, they can very quickly tell you that foster parents are FIGHTING for attachment of any kind from these kids. Attachment, while painful when the kids leave, is NECESSARY for their proper emotional upbringing. And, just like many other behaviors, children learn by copying parents. They will learn appropriate or inappropriate attachments from the adults in their life. So as you attach, hopefully, so will they. It will, in actuality, take longer than with children who have not experienced trauma. But, it still can happen...your attachment is needed to bring about their attachment.
It DOES feel like the end of the world when a child leaves your home. It is something akin to torture. But, that doesn't mean it isn't what we should do. It doesn't mean that we will not recover. It does mean you have eased the suffering of at least one. It means you have shown, not just told your children about caring for others. It means you are willing to give up your wants in exchange for a child's needs.
Attachment will probably always be a debated topic among foster parents and non-foster parents. But, remember, attachment is good. It is necessary. And I am forever reminding myself that attachment is not all about ME.
Kids and Grown-ups...Can't?
Can't means unable. Are we really unable?
I believe that this is where "I can't" overlaps the adults with the children. Really, with kids and grown-ups...most of the time, "I can't" doesn't really mean that we are unable. It means there is another part of our life that takes priority.
Our time, our money, convenience, emotions. Whatever it is. These things do not render us unable, they drive the selfishness that renders us unwilling.
Because with my children...they really CAN practice piano now, miss Duck Dynasty, speak in public, eat broccoli...maybe it is gross, scary, annoying...but they are capable. They CAN.
This point also holds true for grown-ups...really, most of us can foster. But, given the choice, right now, it is too inconvenient. We are unwilling to sacrifice our retirement, our clean house, possibly our sanity, or our hearts.
I can't.
My husband likes to ask the question: "What could we do if we couldn't can't?" It is one of those questions that makes me mad. Because he usually says it after I say, "I can't!" So, I have tried to eradicate "I can't" from our lives...I know it isn't possible. But I try, just the same.
I am aware there are some things we really can't do.
I also know there are many things that we CAN do, but label it as CAN'T.
Maybe it is to salvage our pride.
Maybe it is to excuse ourselves from having to deal with horrible realities.
But, be sure, the atrocities still exist.
There is still abuse. There is still neglect.
There are still more than 100,000 children that need a family.
There is still a huge shortage of foster homes.
The mind-boggling part of these frightening matters is that they can be corrected when more people start saying, "I can."
So, the question remains...
Can YOU?
Our sweet new kids says "I CAN'T" with wild abandon. The other kids say it as well, but adding two more kid saying "I CAAAAAN'T" means I am hearing this phrase about 78,986 times per day..or at least that is what it feels like.
Corban says, "I can't practice piano NOW!"
Ms. Sweetie says, "I CAN'T eat THAT!"
Joseph and Judsen say, "I CANNOT MISS Duck Dynasty!!"
Celee and Mia both say they CANNOT speak in public.
TC is absolutely positive he CANNOT do dishes AND sweep!!
I CAN'T...the phrase uttered inaccurately and with HUGE frequency around here. I despise "I can't" because it is illogical to assume you can't do something you haven't tried. It is irrational to assert you CAN'T because something may be irritating or inconvenient at that particular time.
Maybe it is ridiculous for me to expect rational thought and logic from children...
I do, however, expect it from adults.
Because adults ARE more rational, thoughtful, logical beings.
Maybe.
I can't...with grown-ups.
#1 conversation I have with people about our family...
"Did you adopt?"
"Yes, we did foster-adopt through the state."
Which is followed by:
"I can't do that, I would just get too attached."
I disagree with this "I can't" foster care philosophy.
Let's discuss...
What is right?
We try and teach our children to do things that are right but still hard. Maybe on a slightly smaller scale, but as parents we do try...we teach them to talk to the alienated kid, we teach them to wash their clothes, eat their broccoli, clean their rooms, change their underwear...any one of these could be construed as something that is "hard" for a kid, but they have to do it because it is the RIGHT thing to do in the name of hygiene, health, or kindness.
When they get older we try and get them to choose the RIGHT vocation. Even if it means going to 4 or more years of college (hard). We try and get them to break up with a super-attractive girlfriend because she is a cheater (hard). We, over and over, repeat that they need to make the RIGHT decision.
We spend countless hours trying to teach our children to be helpful, be kind, put other people's needs ahead of their own...because we know that "right" is not always "easy."
Attachment.
If you ask any foster parent anywhere, they can very quickly tell you that foster parents are FIGHTING for attachment of any kind from these kids. Attachment, while painful when the kids leave, is NECESSARY for their proper emotional upbringing. And, just like many other behaviors, children learn by copying parents. They will learn appropriate or inappropriate attachments from the adults in their life. So as you attach, hopefully, so will they. It will, in actuality, take longer than with children who have not experienced trauma. But, it still can happen...your attachment is needed to bring about their attachment.
It DOES feel like the end of the world when a child leaves your home. It is something akin to torture. But, that doesn't mean it isn't what we should do. It doesn't mean that we will not recover. It does mean you have eased the suffering of at least one. It means you have shown, not just told your children about caring for others. It means you are willing to give up your wants in exchange for a child's needs.
Attachment will probably always be a debated topic among foster parents and non-foster parents. But, remember, attachment is good. It is necessary. And I am forever reminding myself that attachment is not all about ME.
Kids and Grown-ups...Can't?
Can't means unable. Are we really unable?
I believe that this is where "I can't" overlaps the adults with the children. Really, with kids and grown-ups...most of the time, "I can't" doesn't really mean that we are unable. It means there is another part of our life that takes priority.
Our time, our money, convenience, emotions. Whatever it is. These things do not render us unable, they drive the selfishness that renders us unwilling.
Because with my children...they really CAN practice piano now, miss Duck Dynasty, speak in public, eat broccoli...maybe it is gross, scary, annoying...but they are capable. They CAN.
This point also holds true for grown-ups...really, most of us can foster. But, given the choice, right now, it is too inconvenient. We are unwilling to sacrifice our retirement, our clean house, possibly our sanity, or our hearts.
I can't.
My husband likes to ask the question: "What could we do if we couldn't can't?" It is one of those questions that makes me mad. Because he usually says it after I say, "I can't!" So, I have tried to eradicate "I can't" from our lives...I know it isn't possible. But I try, just the same.
I am aware there are some things we really can't do.
I also know there are many things that we CAN do, but label it as CAN'T.
Maybe it is to salvage our pride.
Maybe it is to excuse ourselves from having to deal with horrible realities.
But, be sure, the atrocities still exist.
There is still abuse. There is still neglect.
There are still more than 100,000 children that need a family.
There is still a huge shortage of foster homes.
The mind-boggling part of these frightening matters is that they can be corrected when more people start saying, "I can."
So, the question remains...
Can YOU?
May is National Foster Care Awareness Month. Get AWARE, friends. If you want more info check out http://adoptuskids.org/ for information about waiting children.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
and then there were 10.
It is a little wild around here.
We are anticipatory and nervous.
We are washing sheets, rearranging rooms.
Moving kids from one room to another.
Pulling out one car seat and one booster seat...
and washing the seat covers, because after being stored for a bit...
they smell.
ew.
This time of waiting is not hard for me.
I am not sure why.
Maybe because I value the few small hours we have to organize.
To prepare the kids that are already here for the arrival of two more.
To vacuum, scrub, wash...
To attempt (once again) to rid the boys' bathroom of its boy-bathroom smell.
It never works.
But we try.
I value the time to pray.
My job...
I am always very clear on what my job is NOT.
It is not to replace a mom.
Because, if there is one thing I will NEVER be, it is their biological Mom...
I know this.
My job is to love.
to help.
to cry.
to laugh.
to pray.
to teach.
to learn.
And then to let go.
We are anticipatory and nervous.
We are washing sheets, rearranging rooms.
Moving kids from one room to another.
Pulling out one car seat and one booster seat...
and washing the seat covers, because after being stored for a bit...
they smell.
ew.
This time of waiting is not hard for me.
I am not sure why.
Maybe because I value the few small hours we have to organize.
To prepare the kids that are already here for the arrival of two more.
To vacuum, scrub, wash...
To attempt (once again) to rid the boys' bathroom of its boy-bathroom smell.
It never works.
But we try.
I value the time to pray.
My job...
I am always very clear on what my job is NOT.
It is not to replace a mom.
Because, if there is one thing I will NEVER be, it is their biological Mom...
I know this.
My job is to love.
to help.
to cry.
to laugh.
to pray.
to teach.
to learn.
And then to let go.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
stories.
I was watching a leadership promo thing at our church on Sunday. And the guy on the screen looked right at me and asked:
"What story do YOU want to tell?"
My immediate thought was...not mine.
My story is mostly boring: White girl, raised in upper-middle class neighborhood. My life got slightly more interesting when I turned 12. That was when my parents sat my sisters and me down to vote on whether or not to have foster kids or have foreign exchange students. We voted for foster kids. Unanimously.
I am not sure why my parents decided to involve us in the decision. I am really not even certain why they decided to be foster parents at all. I have never asked.
I know I was kind of bratty until I turned 13. That was the year my parents finally got their foster care certification and I got my first-ever foster brother. Legally, I don't think I can write too much in specifics. But from my memories, his arrival introduced me to a darker part of life with which I was unfamiliar.
It was the first time I can remember meeting someone who had been starved and brutalized. It was the first time I had someone in our house steal things from me, lie to me over and over...
It was the first time I ever felt really stupid for whining about having a jacket I thought was ugly. I hated that thing. It was not just red, it was RED! Red in a screaming sort of way. My new foster brother stole my ugly jacket. He stole it because he wanted to give it to his step-mother. The one that hurt him. He wanted to give her my ugly jacket so she would like him. He thought if she liked him, he could go home.
He continued to steal food, clothing, toys, money...he was an aspiring arsonist...
I remember asking him..."WHY do you do this??!"
His answer was ALWAYS: "Who cares?"
WHO CARES?
The mantra of parent-less, hurting children everywhere.
And so many times, my non-verbalized answer has been: Not me.
The story right now, is of human tragedy. And I hate it.
I often tell the story of my first foster brother. His story is not that different from other children who have been unnaturally removed from the custody of their parents:
Parents don't/won't take care of the child/children. The children then need an adult to appropriately take care of them. And the majority of our population says...not me.
The fact that a child would steal my supremely ugly jacket to barter with his step-mother for her affection broke my obnoxious, teenage attitude. My perspective was re-worked. Because whining about a red jacket in the presence of a family-less, abused child IS stupid.
Life is not about my small, petty, first-world problems. It is not about a neutral colored jacket. It is not about a bigger house, car, or savings account. It is not about committee meetings where people discuss "easing the orphans' plight" at some unplanned point in the future.
For me, life is about what I can do right now. It is about making a difference right now.
The story I pray for, cry for...is the story of hope for hurting people. The story of redemption. The story of ALL the lonely being placed in families. The story of US understanding our responsibilities to one another and acting upon that understanding.
Because really, the story of human tragedy begins to change to triumph only when we all answer my foster brother's simple question...
"Who cares?"
with a very simple answer...
"ME."
"What story do YOU want to tell?"
My immediate thought was...not mine.
My story is mostly boring: White girl, raised in upper-middle class neighborhood. My life got slightly more interesting when I turned 12. That was when my parents sat my sisters and me down to vote on whether or not to have foster kids or have foreign exchange students. We voted for foster kids. Unanimously.
I am not sure why my parents decided to involve us in the decision. I am really not even certain why they decided to be foster parents at all. I have never asked.
I know I was kind of bratty until I turned 13. That was the year my parents finally got their foster care certification and I got my first-ever foster brother. Legally, I don't think I can write too much in specifics. But from my memories, his arrival introduced me to a darker part of life with which I was unfamiliar.
It was the first time I can remember meeting someone who had been starved and brutalized. It was the first time I had someone in our house steal things from me, lie to me over and over...
It was the first time I ever felt really stupid for whining about having a jacket I thought was ugly. I hated that thing. It was not just red, it was RED! Red in a screaming sort of way. My new foster brother stole my ugly jacket. He stole it because he wanted to give it to his step-mother. The one that hurt him. He wanted to give her my ugly jacket so she would like him. He thought if she liked him, he could go home.
He continued to steal food, clothing, toys, money...he was an aspiring arsonist...
I remember asking him..."WHY do you do this??!"
His answer was ALWAYS: "Who cares?"
WHO CARES?
The mantra of parent-less, hurting children everywhere.
And so many times, my non-verbalized answer has been: Not me.
Stories.
The story that I am telling, that I wish didn't need to be told is the story of children without families. Stories of children who have been hurt. I don't like these stories.
But, there is no way to change atrocities I choose to be oblivious to.The story right now, is of human tragedy. And I hate it.
I often tell the story of my first foster brother. His story is not that different from other children who have been unnaturally removed from the custody of their parents:
Parents don't/won't take care of the child/children. The children then need an adult to appropriately take care of them. And the majority of our population says...not me.
The fact that a child would steal my supremely ugly jacket to barter with his step-mother for her affection broke my obnoxious, teenage attitude. My perspective was re-worked. Because whining about a red jacket in the presence of a family-less, abused child IS stupid.
Life is not about my small, petty, first-world problems. It is not about a neutral colored jacket. It is not about a bigger house, car, or savings account. It is not about committee meetings where people discuss "easing the orphans' plight" at some unplanned point in the future.
For me, life is about what I can do right now. It is about making a difference right now.
The story I pray for, cry for...is the story of hope for hurting people. The story of redemption. The story of ALL the lonely being placed in families. The story of US understanding our responsibilities to one another and acting upon that understanding.
Because really, the story of human tragedy begins to change to triumph only when we all answer my foster brother's simple question...
"Who cares?"
with a very simple answer...
"ME."
I can can. yes, I can...can you?
I really don't can very much. But, when my friend Sarah comes to visit, we break out the glass jars and can these supremely delicious jalapenos. I really love them. So do the kids.
What you need:
4 pounds jalapeno peppers
2-4 pounds of onions (I like LOTS)
2 cups of sugar
3 cups of vinegar
2 T. mustard seed
2 t. tumeric
2 t. celery seed
1 t. ginger
Slice peppers and onions.
PACK and SQUISH as many as you can into jars
Boil lids and rims in water until needed.
Boil sugar, vinegar, mustard seed, tumeric, celery seed and ginger in a big ol' pot.
Pour hot liquid into jars, leave a little space at the top. (1/8 - 1/4 inch)
Take pinchers and put hot lids and then hot rims on jars. Place them boiling hot water bath. Leave jars in there for about 10 minutes. (sometimes longer)
Pull them out and let them cool...press the lids to see if they are firm, if they pop up and down then they are not sealed and you can attempt to hot-water bathe them again.
Now wait about 6 weeks and EAT.
*I double this recipe and make about a dozen jars.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)