Battlefield

12 years ago I was recovering from a major surgery. I had staples across my lower abdomen and I was moving around at the speed of a snail. I also experienced severe insomnia for the first time in my life. Every bit of it was worth it at the time. I was finally filled with hope of getting pregnant. For months everything was calculated... ovulation tests, pregnancy tests, repeat. Month after month the hope slowly faded. I was living in a state of defeat. I was drained, and my marriage was falling apart right before my eyes. 

  The next few years were hard, to say the least. I was faced with a decision to accept the way my life had turned out or create one that brought me back to a state of joy. I made decisions during those years that pulled me back and forth. I was withdrawn at times, while at others, I was partying like it was 1999. Neither brought me joy. I was in a battle with myself. Somewhere along that winding road I started to set boundaries. I needed my circle to be small and trustworthy. I learned I didn't need a partner to be happy, and that in fact, this poor school teacher could build a pretty good life all by herself. 

  The last couple years haven't been without their battles. I watched my dad battle cancer. I've watched loved ones struggle through addiction. I've watched my daughter battle through and overcome trauma from her past. I watched all of us make our way through a pandemic. 

  Looking back, I see how necessary each of those battles were to bring me to exactly where I am now. I am in a place to support my children in finding their true joy in life. What a beautiful responsibility.

  I sit here this morning reflecting in a quiet house. The kids are at daycare, as I will walk into my attorney's office later today and again prepare for battle. I am stronger than I've ever been but not without some level of worry. Check signed, mediation date set, and the looming presence of a possible trial in the future. All of these things combined have the power to take my breath away. The possibility of us ever saying goodbye to our littlest one puts a knot in my stomach the size of the Atlantic. It's all hard and scary and I'd be lying if I didn't say so. 

  What I've learned is not to try and eat the whole elephant at once. I constantly remind myself that I have today, and after the tragedies of this week, that's more than many parents are waking up to. Today we press on. Today I once again prepare to pull out and put on my armor even though it didn't even have time to get dusty yet. I will fight for you baby, just like I fought for your brother and sister. I will do everything in my power to give you every chance in life to find and hold tight to your joy. 

Where's MY dad?

I knew eventually he'd get to the age where he wanted to know about his dad. It was bedtime and we were having a silly lighthearted conversation about a little girl in his class that he always says is so pretty! He said "maybe when I'm big I will marry her!" Then we giggled and he stopped and said "noooo...you know who I'm gonna marry?" I said no. He said "You, momma!" I told him I can't marry him cause I'm his mommy and people can't marry their mommy. He said "can they marry their dad?" I said no. He then said "my dad is in heaven". Those words were like a dagger to my momma heart. We've talked about his dad but in that moment I realized he just didn't at all understand. I told him his dad is not in heaven but he does live far far away. I explained the best I could to a 5 year old that when he was a baby, his dad wasn't healthy and he couldn't take care of him and so he came to be my little boy forever. He asked me if Pop can be his dad. I told him no because Pop loves being your Pop so much. We talked for awhile about families and how each one is different. He said "I love you mom and you're my momma!" The whole conversation was simple and straightforward to him. It left me feeling quite gloomy. You see, I've never met or even spoken to his dad. There's not one single thing I can tell him about his dad. No funny stories. No faces that he makes can I ever say "you look just like your dad". I've got nothing and it's just sad. He has a brother in California. They've spent some time together when he went to visit his grandparents. They look a lot alike. I wish they could have a closer relationship and hope someday they do. I know there will be more questions along the way. I pray I have the words. 

Sav has recently began writing her dad. It has oddly enough brought with it a true acceptance of her life without him in it. They were so close and to lose that connection overnight is something I can't even fathom. When she speaks about him, I get a sense it was them against the world. As long as they had each other they'd be alright.  After they had written each other a couple times, she told me that she "just wants her family to know that she's okay and that she's really happy". She went on to tell me that was one of the hardest things was worrying that her family didn't know she was okay. Three years she's held on to those thoughts. 

I'm not even sure the point of this blog...maybe it's just to try and tie up the wondering thoughts in my mind for the past months. Maybe it's to let other foster/adoptive parents know that it's really hard for me too...you're not alone. Maybe it's just about facing the facts. I know what it's not. It's not at all about wondering if I'm enough. I know I can't be a dad. But I do know I can surround my children with strong male role models. Our village is full of them. I know they have a Pop, an Uncle, and so many others that fill in the gaps. I will continue to try and help my children heal from the life that didn't work out for them, embrace the one they have, and love them every step of the way. 

Saying Yes to a Dozen

It's been awhile but honestly it's because my plate is so so full. People keep saying "two is two but three's a dozen". I feel that! The past 4 1/2 months have been full of adjustment but little by little we are making it happen. 

I've had lots of people ask me if I'd adopt her. I've one answer to that question since I started fostering. My agreement with God was "for as long as you need me".  Nothing about that has changed. The answer has a few more layers now because it's no longer just about me. Savannah, Abram and I had settled into life as a little family of 3. My home was closed to foster care and the consideration to ever foster again seemed like it would only be a possibility way down the road....then I got the call. As a family of three we said together "for as long as you need us". 

Saying yes means saying yes to the hard. The visitations, bridging with biological families under undesirable circumstances, court dates, homes visits, doctor visits paperwork and more paperwork, having my own life picked apart under a microscope. Saying yes also means saying yes to an immeasurable amount of blessings. Yes to more love. Yes to snuggles on Saturday mornings in pjs . Yes to taking care of boo-boos and hearing the word Ma, Momma, and sometimes bruh followed by I love you or Luhhhh Yoouuuu. Yes to being able to provide an opportunity for siblings to break cycles of generational povery and addiction. Yes to looking at each of their same big ears and giggling to myself every time. Yes to stability and commitment to make it through this life together. 

Since I haven't written in so long here's a little update on where we're at...

Savannah Ann...The Big Sis. She's 110% preteen. She mastered the blank stare months back that says "you're an idiot" "I'm cussing you out in my head", or "would you please just stop talking!". She's rockin the holy jeans and of course a hoodie in 110° weather. She's making close friends which hasn't always been easy. I think attachment is a scary thing. She's such a great helper around the house and does anything I ask to keep the house tidy. She is a bit unorganized (that'd be putting it nicely!) and that would probably be where she and I butt heads the most. I find out about everything pertaining to her needs or obligations last minute. When she struggles most, she withdrawals from me first. I don't let her. I will chase her to moon a million times to let her know I'm not going anywhere. Like it or not she's stuck with me FOREVER. She is still super passionate about archery and we love watching her in action. She's a smart cookie and when she keeps up with her homework (refer back to organizational skills) she is a kick ass student. We have lots of talks about kindness and about the kids that need it most. She works hard to seek those opportunities to just be kind. I said from the beginning she makes me a better me. I strive to be the example of a strong, kind, compassionate woman that I see her growing up to be. ❤

Abram...AKA King Abram. He thinks he's pretty much the boss of all things. He's more stubborn than anyone I know. Poor kiddo is the only male in a house full of girls! As my 3rd graders would say, he's girl trapped! Even the dogs are girls. He rolls with it. He has his little man cave where no girls are allowed without permission. You can usually bribe your way in with candy. It's been really hard on him to adjust to having baby sister in the house, but I'm watching his love grow for her. More chasing and laughing, tickling and wrestling. More moments where he asks her to sit by him and look at a book or watch his tablet with him. These moments didn't happen over night. There have been growing pains. He's started PreK this year and he loves school, his teachers and especially riding the bus. He's his normal ornery self and made it home with a couple "red faces" this month. Listening isn't his strong suit. He's an entertainer by heart. He could probably start his own podcast at age 4. He's a momma's boy and I honestly wouldn't want it any other way. We work hard though on being kind and respectful and talk lots about listening ears! He's so hilarious(without even knowing it) that even on my worst days I belly laugh at his stories. 💙

Little Sis...Our Gummy Bear. Whew, yall. I wasn't prepared. She's full speed ahead from the time she rises until the time she sleeps. She is quick and she is determined. If she wants something she will find a way. She can climb anything...I mean anything. She falls and gets right back up. She loves her family. She follows Sav around and watches her fixing her hair or cleaning around the house. She seizes every opportunity she can to dig in Savannah's box of fidgits even though she knows Savannah will get mad. She actually likes that part too as she smiles and giggles when anyone in the house chases her to get things she's not supposed to have. She thinks everything Abram does is funny and when he plays with her it makes her happiest. I have a feeling they will grow to be very close. She's an observer and wants to mimic any adult behaviors she sees. She wants to help wash dishes, fold laundry and help Pop pull weeds. Like the other two, she's a dog lover. She calls me Ma. 💜

As for me, I go to bed exhausted every. single. day. BUT my heart is so full. Self care has become more of a struggle and I know I must take care of me. I miss my monthly massge sessions and little things like having regularly shaved legs! I'm living on lots of coffee and lots of love right now. As we continue to find our groove, it'll all fall back into place. I am grateful for the hard as I've learned so much about GRACE. It has become the driving force for how I live my life...both giving it to myself and extending it to others. 💛

Thank you to all that love me and my children. Thank you for prayers, good vibes, amd well wishes. Sending my love right back to you! 

Sugar Plum

She's sugar and spice and everything nice...

She also has a temper and a scream bigger than seems necessary for that little body of hers. I'm learning more about her every day and love figuring out the things that make her giggle and smile. 

 I really thought in December of 2019 that our little family was complete. I was more than okay with that then. As 2020 passed by, we settled into just being a family. We enjoyed the long spring and summer and the extra time it leant us to just be. We grew in so many ways. In a million ways it was perfect, but somewhere in the midst of the long quarantine, my heart began to stir. Although I didn't miss the paperwork, the home visits, or the court dates, I missed foster care. Maybe it was that, or maybe it was a precious baby girl that I knew was maybe supposed to be a part of our family. I tried to push the thought aside but she was always there in the back of my mind. She already had a piece of my heart. 

On Friday, my mom and I were getting ready for a garage sale when I got the call. I thought to myself, as I listened to them talk, that my response should be "let me think it over". I defaulted to yes instead. I stood there in the middle of my garage sale items and scanned for all things baby. I grabbed the car seat and pack n play, tucked the stroller into the back of the garage and walked back into my house shaking my head. Was I really going to do this again? For her, yes. 

The first night I woke up at around 4am and had a good cry because I realized I had forgotten to feed my kids that evening. My friends assured me if they had been that hungry then they would have spoken up. We were so consumed with taking in this precious little whirlwind that had come through our door. Two days later I almost did it again. That night me and Abram had a lovely dinner date in the kitchen after baby went down for the night. I guess in these moments you realize how unimportant it is to get things perfect all the time. The imperfect has a way of becoming so perfect. The night before all of our first day back to daycare,  school, and work, I had gotten things super organized and was so happy when everyone was in the car, happy, and on time. I think I probably even had a little smirk on my face like "look at me killin it"! We started backing out of the driveway when Abram stands up out of his car seat and says "Mom you forgot to buckle me!" 

The first days are always hard...like really really hard. All you really want is time to bond and get into a groove that works with this newly changed dynamic. Life and foster care don't really work that way though. You sign the million papers, respond to the million texts, and try to talk to all the people that help all the things align.  We've been running around like crazy the past few days but with the help of our amazing family, we're getting through these hard first days. My Sav is so amazing with baby girl. I swear she just blows me away time and time again with her ability to adapt and roll with the changes. Abram is having some pretty big growing pains not being the baby anymore. Let's just be real, I've babied that boy a lot. I wouldn't change it at all though. He's my baby boy forever. He's spending, by choice, a lot of extra time in his little man cave. Who can blame him? He's the only boy in a house where even the dogs are girls! I have no doubt he will adjust and thrive with the changes in due time. 

We're making it work...we might not be 100% killin it, but we're definitely working together and making it work.  Sometimes being a family means making sacrifices on things we want to make sure everyone gets what they need. I am beyond proud of my kids for their willingness. 

We thank you all for the many many gifts that have made this transition so much easier. We ask for your prayers and especially as we travel the road of foster care again. It's not always smooth but we will press on. 💙❤💜

Our Freshman Year?!

I googled "what's the first year callled?" The first thing that popped up was Freshman year. It definitely seems fitting. Is there anything more awkward than a freshman year? Ohhh the growing pains...

I remember my freshman year of school (jr high)...

This was the first year of my life that I cared less about what other people thought of me and more about what I thought about myself. I started seeing the world...mostly my world but beginning to look outside of it and wondering why things were the way they were. I began to form lasting friendships...friendships that still carry me through my todays. I also made some really poor decisions...I wouldn't change them. They molded me, in so many ways, into who I am today. 

FF..Freshamn year of college. I definitely had direction. I knew exactly where I wanted to be. Maybe too much. I had such a plan that I had left no space for a greater plan. I was seriously on that 5 year plan that included graduation, marriage, and babies! I was so focused that I couldn't even see what was right in front of me. If I could go back, I probably wouldn't, but if I did, I'd tell myself to relax. I'd tell myself that I didn't have nearly as much control as I thought I did. Man, I'd like to remind me to soak up the little moments and just enjoy life. I definitely could again say that in this freshman year, I formed some lifelong friendships and made some ridiculously stupid decisions. Also wouldn't change them. I am who I am today partly because of this year. 

Big FF...freshman year of parenting?! I had 13 years of teaching experience and a few years of foster parenting under my belt before I was "official" so I'm not sure freshman status is fair. Not to mention, I absolutely adored and spoiled my friends' babies all the years in between. AND YET, I still have no idea what I'm doing! I told my friends the other day that parenting is just troubleshooting EVERY DAY without a guide. It's kind of hilarious to me that after 5,000 years of praying for a baby that God decided a pandemic was the best time to test out my official mothering skills. I really am laughing as I type this.

 I prayed so hard so so hard. I remember seeing Abram for the first time and wanting to give him the world. Within a month of  rocking him to sleep, I was totally and completely in absolute love with that little boy. It honestly was probably earlier than that, but I was in denial and trying to be everything it meant to be a "foster momma". My heart and his both knew that we needed each other forever. 

A year later, Sister was the icing on the cake. She truly made us feel like a family. The timing of her coming to be with us was so perfectly aligned that EVERYTHING fell into place. Every single heart involved in the process was able to see that we three were meant to be a family. 

Oh my heart couldn't have taken it going any other way. They are mine. I am so grateful...and grateful isn't nearly a big enough word. 

This year has been hard. Our hard doesn't compare to those that have lost loved ones, the frontline workers away from their families, the teachers and students figuring out daily how to navigate virtual learning, those layed off from their jobs trying to figure out how to feed their families...I could keep going. If this freshman year of parenting has sharpened anything, it's my perspective. Looking way outside of me and mine and realizing just how blessed and privileged we've been.

 I am grateful to have almost survived the year of the "threenager" in the midst of a pandemic (ugh is he seriously almost four). Also survived the preteen's whole world being flip flopped. I can't even imagine facing a year like this at her age. Super grateful that life slowed down enough for me to see and really appreciate it all. In the middle of all the hard, we pulled out board games, walked around the neighborhood, played in the backyard, had really hard conversations, trained a new puppy (kinda), watched really good movies, camped in the backyard, went on drives, ate extra ice cream, and loved each other so so much. 

It's impossible to really put final words to this year...but the best I can do is to say I am so humbled that I get to momma them through these hard times. I love them with every piece of my heart and I also believe with all those pieces that brighter days are ahead...for us all. 

Bless you all!! Thanks again and again for all the love and prayers that have gotten us this far. ❤❤❤

Anxiety and Rona

So I'm struggling yall, and I'm sure I'm not alone. I am awake for the 3rd time tonight and the can't breathe or find my grounding feels consuming again. How many of you can't sleep? My digestive system is a complete mess. I have not been directly affected by Covid and yet I've been directly affected by Covid. 

When all of this started, I was obsessed with following the numbers and reading every. single. thing. I could get my hands on. For some reason, if I had all the information, I felt like I could make other people understand how serious this was...and maybe I could get ahead of it. 

It was a false sense of power or security that sent me spiraling before the real spring break even started. I'd like to reference real time here, but honestly I've lost track. This feels like one long nightmare. 

Yesterday our city passed a new ordinance that you must wear a mask when you are not in your house. I am grateful for those that are doing their part to slow the spread and protect the vulnerable. At the very same time, I began to panic and tried to gather information about how this pertained to my little tribe of 3. Can we play in the driveway without a mask? Our own driveway where no one is coming or going? I don't have any idea why, but the loss of something so simple seemed to completely overwhelm me. Another piece of normalcy I'd have to strip from my children? I still don't have an answer and that's probably why I can't sleep....tonight. 

I said to someone the other day, we're all in this storm together, we're just in different boats. I'm not sure why I say corny shit like that, but I do and most of the time it brings me perspective and peace. Right now though, it doesn't matter what your boat looks like...some of the best looking boats are taking on water. 

In all regards, my family has everything we NEED to withstand the storm. You'd think I could relax and just enjoy my Netflix binge like so many have suggested. (Stop crying while the healthcare providers are on the frontlines...stay HOME and watch Netflix) Here's what's weird, I am usually very content with being at home with my children.  I'm not struggling with the loss of gym time (that's one certainty). I could care less that my roots are growing out or that my eyebrows look like tiny bushes above my eyes. What is absolutely awful to me, is that a world that felt relatively safe for my children a month ago, is anything but today. 

My boyfriend is still able to work. Although this is a financial blessing that many aren't afforded right now, it means we can't see each other. My 3 year old cries every single day. How do you possibly comfort a 3 year old whose whole world has been changed from something he can't even see? It feels cruel and unfair. 

I've been disgusted by a comparison that fear somehow equals a lack of faith. I've seen it over and over. I am absolutely not a bible whiz by any stretch, but I know it says God didn't give us a spirit of fear. My interpretation of that is He doesn't want us walking around scared 24/7. He wants us to lean in closer when we are afraid. I don't remember it ever saying that you aren't ever going to experience fear. Isn't HE the one that created me and ALL of my complex emotions? I am a believer and I struggle daily right now with feelings of fear...just for the record. 

I don't say any of this for pity but rather in hopes to let someone reading this know they aren't alone. WE HAVE ALL BEEN AFFECTED BY COVID19. So to the extrovert and introvert, the nurses and the Tiger King bingers, the the old and young, the teachers that just miss school and the ones grateful for a long summer break, my friends that miss the gym and the ones that miss their favorite Mexican food joint, the employed and unemployed, the rich and the poor, you are not alone in whatever you are feeling. 

Stay safe, my friends. 

Halftime

Opinions...everyone has one. They're just like....well, you know the saying. 

I want to share a little story. A month or so ago, I started seeing my friends post about the cat killer documentary. One Saturday morning I decided to check it out. I didn't even make it 5 minutes in, and I felt absolutely sick to my stomach. I turned it off. I TURNED IT OFF, and I will never watch it because of how it almost instantly made me feel. It just wasn't for me. I didn't become enraged with the makers of the documentary. I didn't scroll back through Facebook and lash out at the friends who had recommended it. I didn't create a long dramatic Facebook post about it. I simply turned it off. 

If you hated the halftime show, if it made you uncomfortable, you had that same power. You are entitled to feel whatever you feel, but please remember YOU control whether or not YOU decided to continue watching or not. If it made you feel uneasy or like some of the posts I read, if you found it "tasteless" or "overly sexual", you had the power to change the channel. I saw one person comment "It wasn't for me, I switched over to the puppy bowl", and I wanted to applaud them. To those who were "disgusted" by the performance, my question is, how'd you make it all the way to the pole dancing portion? Why didn't you change the channel? Were you also offended by a shirtless Adam last year? Beyonce in 2013? She always puts on a sexy performance. Or was it just the pole that was too much for you?  A common theme I saw was women saying that's not the example that they want set for their daughters or granddaughters, I just hope they didn't hear your outrage and disgust verbalized. I hope not because I hope that in high school she doesn't judge the dance team and cheerleaders or the strong gymnasts in their uniforms and leotards or that athlete in her short tight track shorts working hard for a college scholarship. I hope she sees they're living out their dreams. I pray she doesn't spend her prom judging whose dress is too revealing and whose is appropriate. I REALLY hope she's the one on the dance floor, dancing like no one's watching. Maybe even, God forbid, doing some booty shaking, with her head thrown back, laughing, and loving her life.  I hope when she's in college and she sees that girl that's had too much to drink in the cute skirt and crop top that she isn't disgusted. I hope she's compassionate. I hope she reaches out and helps keep her safe. When she sees other women who have lost their power, I hope she's the kind of woman who will help them find it. 

Here's MY opinion. Take it or leave it. I loved the halftime show. I grew up a dancer, a performer. I believe I was about 12 when I had my first thong jazz leotard. I performed in HOT two pieces and elegant dresses. I felt beautiful and powerful in both. I learned to love the art of dance and the thrill of being on stage performing. I understand that each costume was an extension of the art I was expressing with my body. When I watched JLo climb that pole, it was inspiring. She certainly couldn't have pulled that off in a Moomoo.  But then again, maybe she could! I said I hoped I looked like her at 50, but the chances of that happening aren't slim to none, they're just none. What I do want at 50 is to remember the message I took away from her performance. I want to remember that women are beautiful, strong, and oh so powerful. I want to remember the aftermath and controversy and let it remind me of my job as a mother, a friend, and a fellow woman to lift up and empower other women. I hope to remember that because of the dismay of so many, people started doing some research, some of which I've read in the past 48 hours. I've learned that both JLo and Shakira have used their wealth and fame to support many charities, including helping women and children. I hope I'm always reminded to use what I have to help others. 

To my own daughter, it's your body and your rules. I will raise you guided by my own moral compass but inside you lies your own. I will help you find it and follow it. Society doesn't get to tell you how to feel about being a woman. You get to decide what that means to YOU. I want you to know that standing in judgement of other women is always ugly. I want you to see the girl next to you in class that wears her hair long and always wears dresses to honor her God, and I also want you to see the woman that takes her clothes off to put food on the table for her children, as EQUALLY worthy of your love and compassion. I want you to know that we are all more alike than we are different. I want you to see that bad ass woman with half her head shaved, coaching in the NFL, and cheer her on! Also the cheerleaders on the sidelines and the woman having a cold beer in the stands. I want you to see performances by all kinds of women artists, in all kinds of wardrobes, and I want you to cheer them on! The momma with the toddler having a meltdown in the checkout...yep cheer her on too. (She's me!) Some of your hardest years are ahead. That's hard to imagine with all you've been through. They will be somewhat easier if you learn now to support the girls around you. Love them as they are. It will be a hell of a lot easier if you learn to love yourself. You will be judged at times. Love yourself anyway. Maybe even a little harder during those times. Love your body as it develops and changes. Love it still when you find your "freshman 15" and when you first see cellulite and stretch marks. Love all the beautiful things your body is capable of whether it's running a marathon, performing on stage, or giving birth to sweet babies. When you LOVE yourself, it becomes so much easier to love others. Extend grace to other women. Extend grace to ones you don't agree with, even when you don't think they deserve it. You too will need lots of grace along the way. You will have lapses in judgment and make some big mistakes. You will need others to extend grace to you, and that is perfectly ok. I am always here cheering you on. Be a force, my dear!