Writing...

Writing...

It's been...hmmm how can I word this...quite the experience.

It's been over a year, three books started, forty two chapters written, five hundred and some pages being authored, five hundred thousand plus words composed.

My heart, mind, memories, feelings, my soul and my courage dominate the direction in which to write, every single day.

It's been the most emotional ride that I have ever been on. One that's shaken my stable ground, caused walls to crumble and awakened my quieted mind. A journey that's affected me, changed me.

Writing is a dream, a nightmare, a fantasy, an escape, a prison. I'm scared and confused and struggle with much of it. But...it's a purpose in my life. A reminder that I am human. I will be brave.

Trans Racial Adoption

After reading a New York Times article, (see link below) I have a few things to say as a trans racial family. A 'skeptic' is a doubter, a non believer. Maybe the skeptics referred to in this article should look at statistics or really look into the life of a foster child.

I wonder what the 'skeptics' would say about my family? My husband and I are a white couple with three bio children and four black adopted children (three are siblings). We decided to move from our diverse 'rough' neighborhood in the city to a rural farming community (Population est. 1100, there are about seven black people in the area, our kids included) when our oldest bio son was in the ninth grade and the others were not in school yet. The city school was becoming gang infested, just during my sons freshman year alone I had to call 911 twice because of fights that broke out in the parking lot while I was waiting to pick him up.

What got to me in this article were the words like 'racial survival skills' and 'how best to parent a black child'. Really? How about if we teach our kids 'basic life survival skills', ones that teach them how to create great lasting relationships, thrive in school, prepare for college, succeed in the working world?

The children in foster care DO NOT care what color you are, they are looking for someone, anyone who CARES! I will say it...Love is enough! I mean really the only other option for our children would have been growing up in the foster care system and the siblings most likely would have been separated. Is that really better than being raised in a white family?

Yes we took our children out of the city, away from their culture, with the hope and promise to give all  of them the best possible start. We are raising them exactly as we are raising our white children. Equally, as it should be. Yes our black children have mostly all white friends, they like country music  and hip hop, camouflage as well as in fashion, hunting, sports, ect. They will have plenty of time to discover their 'cultural identity' which is not foreign to them by the way. In the meantime, they are enjoying a safe, fun, free of crime education and childhood.

As many times as I hear that trans racial adoption will ruin a black child, I'd have to argue them all! I'd say that my children are well rounded, very well adjusted, non prejudice, popular, smart kids, despite their rough beginning. They are thriving in a white family and a rural community in the middle of farmland.

I am going to 'interview' my teenagers on their thoughts and feelings of being raised by a white family and how in their opinion they think it would have been different being in a black family. I will post their interviews when we're done.

http://www.nytimes.com/roomfordebate/2014/02/02/in-adoption-does-race-matter/in-adoption-race-should-not-be-ignored

'One Child'

  I was very young, thirteen years old, when I got out the big huge phone book, (you know the ones we used as booster seats), combing through it searching and calling places, looking for a place I could volunteer helping children.

  I was compelled to help after reading Torey Hayden's 'One Child'. I was young, but I was completely fascinated with this outstanding teachers way with the children. How just one caring person could make such a huge difference.

  The only place I could find that will let a thirteen year old volunteer is The Red Cross. They offer a 'candy striper' training course so I took it. I could then volunteer at our local hospital. They could not guarantee I would work with children, but I was still excited. It ends up that I would have to be around when deliveries came in because that was the only time they really needed a volunteer for pediatrics. It was still a lot of fun. Delivering flowers to the elderly was the best!

  I went on to read all of Torey Hayden's books. Her books had a clear hand in shaping my future life. Have you read any of them? What about Dave Pelzer's 'A Child called It'? Cathy Glass? She writes about everyday life as a foster parent. There are many more, but these are at the top of my list.


“How come you ain’t staying to make me good?” And Torey replies, “Because it isn’t me that makes you good. It’s you. I’m only here to let you know that someone cares if you are good or not. That someone cares what happens to you. And it won’t matter where I am, I still will always care.” 
http://www.torey-hayden.com/one_child.htm

It's time....

I've been doing a little 'reconstruction' to my blog. Please bare with me as I am learning the ropes a step at a time.

As I reflect on my past, our past, I realize that this time, right now, has been carved out for me to write.

My original plan was to start writing when the last two girls were in school, five years ago. BUT, the very same month that all the children were finally in school, we learned of our miracle.

My story was not ready to write. So many chapters have been added. Everything has fallen into place and it is ready now.

My ambition will keep me going as another dream comes true.

Thank you in advance for all of your help!

6 Joyful Things

                          Some things that make me happy.

Quite honestly, I could not. live. without. it!

Yes these are what they seem. These make me happy because I haven't had to change a pull up in three days! It's also bittersweet because this means my last toddler just graduated to a preschooler.

Meat Masher, one of my favorite tools.

Sweet Wine

This lotion smells sooooo good. Haha it's not what you're thinking. It smells like some kind of berry.

Organic Strawberries picked fresh from the bountiful Amish strawberry fields. I cleaned, cut and froze so many that I get to enjoy them six months after harvest.

An Unexpected Miracle

My life forever changed fifteen months ago!! A solid step forward as I changed my diet, turned into many more SOLID STEPS to the unexpected revelation. My only goal at that time was to try to remedy my current issue, to rid myself of the recurring UTI’s, five in a row.

I researched for ten solid months. I could blog on and on about the shit in our foods that I will no longer eat or make for my family , but I don't have time for that. I’ve already spent months on it and quite frankly, I'm disgusted that one even has to do such research. BUT I am soooo glad I did.  

My starting point was this website http://www.100daysofrealfood.com/. I immediately cleared the cupboards, pantry, fridge and freezer and started the 100 day challenge. It was easy to do, especially because I do like to cook. We weren't big on processed foods anyway, but what my research has taught me about what is in our food has completely floored me. Now, I'm just changing our diet for the sake of our general health.

After the ten months of sifting through and poring over loads of information I finally connected all of my health issues to gluten. Yes, gluten and yes, all of them.

I could have, would have never imagined that all these years have been needless suffering. I guess that’s what happens when you modify the natural make up of a simple crop all in the name of greed.

You will see that what we are eating, cleverly disguised as a bran muffin or onion ciabatta, is not really wheat at all but the transformed product of genetic research conducted during the latter half of the twentieth century. Modern wheat is no more real wheat than a chimpanzee is an approximation of a human. ~Dr. William Davis

I stopped eating gluten fifteen months ago and never looked back. I feel grand! I dropped 38 pounds, my Fibomyalsia symptoms are 90% better and my horrible Endometriosis symptoms are darn near gone (my greatest accomplishment).

It is such a profound change that I am altered, my life has shifted, an unexplainable different that is beyond what my words can express. And I am so damn proud.  

OCD

    I have my two page list sitting on the van seat beside me, pencil in hand. Thinking, organizing and adding to it. I left out bright and early, making a trip to the city to finish up all of my Christmas shopping. I've been composing my lists for weeks.

The first page consists of the stops I need to make, in geographical order. I have each store listed separate with the items I need from there, I also have the price, size, quantity and whether or not I have a coupon.

I make my way around the map of stops, running in, getting through my list, cringing when I pay, back out to the van to load, sanitize and off again. Ten places in all if you count the car wash and gas station.


The second page is Meijer. This is the bulk of the trip, not only will I shop for toys and other Christmas goodies, this is also where I will grocery shop. This list is long! It's in order by aisle. Starting with the non grocery items.

I have my list and a pencil in my hand at each store. Using one the Monster High Doll boxes as my writing surface I cross out things as I go. The first comment someone made about my lengthy, organized list, I laughed. By the fourth list comment, I am starting to get worried, list conscious.

My over thinking self is doing what she does best and on my hour long drive home I start to wonder if I have OCD. I've questioned it before.

I mean who makes lists like I do?
Are anyone else's hands dry, cracked and raw from washing so much?
Does anyone else vacuum every day?
Do you check more than once to make sure you unplugged your curling iron?
Don't we all sometimes avoid places, seek assurance, or stress out about things that don't go just right?

Those are just a couple things that have made me question this. So I thought myself into researching  OCD
Obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) is an anxiety disorder in which people have unwanted and repeated thoughts, feelings, ideas, sensations (obsessions), or behaviors that make them feel driven to do something (compulsions).

I even took this test. http://www.ocdtypes.com/oci-r-test.php

My score is 14, borderline to what could signify minimal to mild OCD.

For the people who question my ways, this is what I say.

 If washing a hundred times a day because I've wiped noses, bottoms, changed a diaper, took the garbage out, made breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, cleaned out puppy pens, picked up dogs, cleaned up after a teenage boy, or girl for that matter, oh and my own potty breaks makes me OCD then I am troubled that you are not.

There is nothing worse than caring for a sick child. I prevent if I can and deal with it when I can't. In this house they all know that hand washing is a priority. If that makes you think I have OCD, then caring for a sick child, or children in my case, must be easier for you than it is for me.

Instead of wandering aimlessly around a store, buying things I don't need, trying to keep the impatient children from having meltdowns and wasting precious time, I make a list.

So, maybe I do have some of the signs of OCD and here I thought I was just organized, thrifty, careful, considerate and detailed.