Category Archives: Parenting

End of an Era

We have decided after much thought and prayer to close our foster license. We have adopted our last two foster children that we knew were meant to be ours, and fost/adopt was one of the main reasons we had detoured from the road of biological children to  international adoption and then to foster care. I knew we had two more girls who were meant to join our family and after searching for many years at a plethora of waiting children–none of which were ours–God told me to take a chill pill. I was frantically hunting because after all I was not getting any younger with each passing year. One night as I knelt in prayer and pled one more time to be able to find my daughters, he clearly told me in my mind, “I will bring them to you.”

All of our other adopted children I had found by searching Waiting Children lists. I just naively assumed that hunting would always be part of the process and although I didn’t really enjoy it, I accepted it as a necessary evil. Instead, however, the Lord gave me the knowledge that my daughters would be here in the United States.

When we considered doing foster care back in 2006, it didn’t feel right. Being the slow learner-or stubborn fool-that I am, I still went to hand in the paperwork to an agency here in town, and felt like I was going to vomit. I sat in their parking lot and then decided I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t meant to be. After we backed out of fostering, was when we found Caleb on a waiting children’s list. Clearly, at the time, we were supposed to adopt one more time from China rather than from foster care.

Fast forward to 2009 and I felt myself being drawn to foster care. So we started the training and application process and it felt 100% right.  I knew it was right as the Spirit confirmed to me that we would find our daughters this way. Funny thing is, Peanut was one of our first placements, and my husband was the one who said “I think we will end up adopting this one.” I thought he was crazy. I was the one who usually knew first which child would be ours when we adopted, and it usually required convincing Jeff over a few months’ time that said chosen child really was meant to be ours.

Blessing came to our house two years later as a fost-adopt placement and after staying with us just over a year, her parents rights were severed and we applied to adopt her. We decided to only do respite for other foster parents at this point, but it led to lots of children in and out of our home on weekends, and then one final 6 month placement of two foster sons who had FASD.  They were sweet boys and I loved them, but their behaviors, severe allergies and extreme cognitive delays nearly led me to drink myself. They were the only placement we ever asked to be rehomed, and typical CPS removed them in a traumatic way from our home with only 45 minutes notice.

With that, I decided I was done, and now four months later, as our license has come up for renewal, we have decided instead to close it. We need a break from CPS, from court reports, from attorneys and social workers in our home, and from having to fill out an incident report to cover our rears every time a child might accidentally fall and get a bruise. We just want to be a family with no other children coming and going. Part of me is sad as I know there is a dearth of good foster homes…and I know we were a good one. We loved the children who came, we made them a part of our family while they were here, and we grieved when they left. It’s time to move on, however. Time to go on a family vacation without having to get permission to take a foster child out of the state. Time to dote more on grandchildren. Time to just be a family. Just us. What will the future hold? Only God knows, but I am excited to see the plans He has in store for us.


Leave a comment

Filed under Adoption, Foster Care, Parenting, Uncategorized

Living with Mania and Answers to Prayer

I should be working on Christmas gifts  or making Christmas treats. But instead, I am blogging because I am in no mood to work on Christmas things when I have a child who is losing it in his bedroom right now. I’m just thankful he finally decided to stay there for awhile.

I should have seen the warning signs coming. Last night Ben was up seven times. That means seven times that the alarm for his bedroom went off as he came out the door and wandered the house. Seven times that Jeff or I had to get up and make sure he went back to bed without getting in trouble. Seven times that I pleaded in prayer for him to just settle down for the night and stay in bed.

Living with mania is no picnic. Holes in bedroom walls tend to bring down the aesthetic value of your home just a bit. Depression is no Sunday School picnic either, but with mania he tends to rage more, while with depression, he cries more silent tears. I have prayed many times over the years for Ben to be healed.  I used to beg Jeff to give him a priesthood blessing to heal him. When Jeff told me he didn’t feel that it was part of his priesthood calling to do so, I falsely accused him of not having enough faith. (Yeah, I know I can be a bear to live with sometimes.) At the time, however, I felt like I had the faith and just knew he could be healed if someone was willing to pronounce those words.

I wasn’t asking for his deafness to be removed; just a simple mental illness of bipolar disorder. Surely that wouldn’t be too much to ask. If the Lord healed all of those who approached him during his mortal ministry, couldn’t he do the same for my son? When he appeared to the Nephites in the Book of Mormon (3rd Nephi chapter 17) and asked that all of their children be brought to him and he blessed them one by one as well as any in their midst who were sick, maim, deaf, blind, or afflicted in any manner,  then surely he would be willing to do that for Ben.  Why not? I had the faith. But then, one night in humble prayer, I asked. “Heavenly Father is it your will that Ben be healed?” The answer I really didn’t want to hear, came: “not yet.” There will be a time someday when Ben will rise in glory and be perfected and all of his frailties and weaknesses will be removed, but for now we must endure a bit longer.

And in the midst of the trial of mental illness that I do not understand, I have learned a simple lesson. It takes great faith to be healed, but it sometimes takes an equal amount or even greater faith to continue to trust in and follow a loving God who says, “not yet.” Faith in God means having faith in His timing.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.” (Isaiah 55:8-9, KJV)

When I struggle, these words bring much comfort. And I can be still and know that He is God.

Leave a comment

Filed under Christmas, Mental illness, Parenting, Uncategorized

Does it really take a village to raise a child?

Does it really take a village to raise a child?

Based on a previous post here, you might possibly think that I don’t believe it takes a village to raise a child. You would be right. 🙂 I have seen the village and I would prefer to pass on my values rather than the values of the world. Raising children requires committed parents who are not willing to pawn- off their responsibilities on others. However, this doesn’t mean that I think we can raise our children alone in a vacuum. I could never successfully fulfill my role as a parent without mentors in my children’s lives.

If you have entered the world of transracial adoption, you know it is one which is not always easily navigated. I can celebrate Chinese New Year and Autumn Moon Festival and Black History month with the best of them. Problem is, I can’t be Chinese, Haitian, Liberian, or Native American which are the ethnicities of some of my children.

When Ben had been home only two months, some very dear Deaf friends took him with them to see a neighborhood that goes all out decorating with Christmas lights. To be honest, I was worn out parenting a child who came home with no language. Tantrums due to misunderstandings were the norm in our household and were exhausting. Ben loved being in an environment with an entire family who signed and shrieked in delight tapping the Deaf father on the shoulder while pointing out beautiful light displays that caught his eye. Having Ben interact with others who are in the Deaf world/culture as well as gaining other language models besides mine has been such a blessing in our lives.

When Caleb came home, he didn’t speak a word of English and my Chinese was limited to such worthless phrases as “Can you speak English?”, “Where is the bathroom?”, “I am an American” and my all time favorites from Rosetta Stone of “That is an airplane” and “That is an elephant.” I admit the elephant phrase helped me on one occasion in a zoo in China but don’t think I have ever used that phrase since. Actually, I’m not even sure that the phrase was helpful in the zoo as Caleb looked at me like “Yeah, duh!”

As gesturing and a Chinese/English dictionary only went so far, I had a dear Chinese friend who stepped up to the plate. When Caleb would become upset and scream for up to 45 minutes at the top of his lungs while hiding under the bottom bunk bed in his room, I resorted to calling Katrina on the phone and pushing the phone under the bed. When he threw it back at me, I would switch it to speaker phone and she would try to talk him down from his tantrum. When he told me he didn’t love me, she laughingly told me how to say “I hate you” in Mandarin and said, “Have you heard that one yet? You haven’t? That’s a good sign.” Having the Chinese Cultural Center built in Tucson has also blessed our lives as we have been able to spend time in an environment where Ben and Caleb can comfortably blend in.

With Micheline’s adoption, I had new fears. With Ben and then later with Caleb, we already had a few contacts and friends in the Chinese community. When I googled the Haitian community where I live I found an article in the newspaper that showed there were about 35 families here. Not many, and I had no way of knowing how to contact them in a city of 1 million people. I contacted a few Haitian families in a large city nearby because they had a website, but their events consisted of $200/plate black tie dinners. Not exactly an event where I could bring a four-year-old child. One man offered to work with me in keeping up my Creole language skills and wanted a mere $50 an hour. Memories of “Hey you, give me money!” on the streets of Port-au-Prince came flooding back. I politely declined.

The more I spoke with adult adoptees, the more I realized the fact that Micheline was Haitian would probably become irrelevant in others’ eyes. They would merely see her as African-American, and no amount of me saying “She is Haitian” would make a difference. The AA community would be the one she would identify with as she grew up but only if I could find someone as a great friend and role model to help her be comfortable in her own skin. We had met a few AA adults and children at homeschooling events and even a few at the library and grocery store, but none of them really wanted to commit to a long-term friendship. Having the same color of skin is obviously meaningless if your personalities don’t click. We met some great friends in a multicultural homeschool community, but they all lived 1 1/2 – 2 hours away.

I had heard of the Big Brothers Big Sisters Program for many years but had never had any interaction with them until someone suggested that having a “Big” might be a great idea for Micheline. At first I resisted the idea. If she was having attachment difficulties, wouldn’t having another adult in her life just make her resist attaching to us even more? Nothing ended up being further from the truth.

Having a mentor in her life who is African-American has made her do a 180 degree turn. After being a little sister to Shayla, Micheline has become far more accepting of who she is. I know it isn’t easy to be in a family where only one sister looks like you and everyone else is of a different race. Since the time she came home I have taught her to look in the mirror while I was putting lotion on her after a bath and say “I am beautiful, I am smart.” Regardless of how many times she recited it, she struggled to believe it. On more than one occasion she has told me she wished she had skin like mine. (Funny, because I wish I had skin like hers!) She told me when she is in public with Shayla, “No one stares at me because we look alike…we look like we belong together.”

It reminded me of when she was in kindergarten and I showed up to her field day only to have her act embarrassed and ask me to leave. I was hurt at the time that she would not want me there but tried to not let it show. It took her weeks to express to me that it was because I didn’t look like her and she didn’t want others to know she was adopted. As long as I didn’t show up, other children could continue to assume her mother was brown and the questions of “Why don’t you look like your mother?” would never happen.

After telling me more than once that she didn’t like her brown skin, I mentioned that she might talk to Shayla about it. She came home from an outing with a smile on her face and told me that night, “I feel so much better about being brown. Shayla told me that she likes being brown.”

Yesterday, Shayla invited Micheline over to her house for a birthday celebration as Micheline had just turned 12. Micheline was there for SEVEN hours. Xbox dancing, eating out, skateboarding, making Oreo milkshakes and watching movies were just a few of the things on the agenda. Toenails painted turquoise yesterday matched her dress for church today and she was thrilled.

This brings me back to the photo above. When God prompted me to adopt internationally and transracially I told Him I would need help. And He of course came through. I am thankful there are those out in the community who are willing to step out of their comfort zone and take a child under their wing. Maybe even a child who isn’t always easy to love due to quirky behaviors. While others are saying “not my child, not my community, not my problem”, it is nice to know as Fred Rogers said, “There are those who see the need and respond.” And like Fred Rogers, I consider those people my heroes.


November 25, 2012 · 8:52 pm

Mother’s Day

Last year on Mother’s Day I did something others might consider crazy. I went to the Bishop of our congregation two weeks in advance and asked him if I could be a speaker in Sacrament Meeting on Mother’s Day. I felt that words needed to be said that addressed the needs, desires and concerns of all women. After much prayer, editing, and definite guidance from the Lord, this is the talk that I gave:

I would like to speak today to the women of the church regardless of your current status as a Mother. First, to those for whom Mother’s day brings much joy. Sticky kisses, homemade gifts, that anxiously-awaited call home from your missionary, or thoughts of your own mother and the sacrifices she made for you. 2 years ago I humorously watched an edible Mother’s day gift made 2 weeks in advance and tucked carefully away in my child’s sock drawer slowly reduce in size. The temptation to eat it rather than save it for Mom was just too great. There is much to be thankful for on Mother’s day. But I wish to speak also to those for whom the words “Mother’s Day” might bring pain.

Perhaps you have recently or even long ago lost your own beloved Mother and yearn for the ability to pick up the phone and call her for advice. Perhaps you struggle with infertility and like one of my dear friends would rather sit out in the car during sacrament mtg than endure yet another Mother’s day talk, or are not yet married and like my dear own sister have tolerated painful comments from others such as “What are you waiting for?” You might wonder if this holiday will ever relate to you and your life situation.

Others may feel pain on Mother’s day related to their children’s actions. Perhaps they have strayed far from the gospel and you doubt your abilities as a mother. Or maybe you just feel that you don’t measure up to those idealistic women presented through word and song on Mother’s day.

Some of you already know that I was not a fan of Mother’s day for many years. In our early marriage as we struggled with fertility issues, Mother’s day was just a reminder to me that I was not yet a mother.

Other times I have struggled as a speaker declared a list of everything their mother had done perfectly and I left feeling “not good enough.” In speaking to many sisters over the years, I found that I was not alone in my feelings. How could a day designed to give joy and honor to women as a whole bring heartache to so many?

And then I read “Are we not all Mothers?” by Sister Sheri Dew who originally gave her talk while she was serving as a counselor in the General Relief Society Presidency. I would like to base much of my talk today on her inspired words.

In my role as a foster parent, I am asked to participate in something called “shared parenting” with the biological parents of the children we foster. It might involve writing letters to them letting them know how their child is doing, sending pictures, or even modeling appropriate parenting skills.

I would submit that our Heavenly Father also participates in “shared parenting” which is resounding evidence of his faith and trust in us. Just as I sometimes have fearfully returned foster children to homes where I feel parenting standards are lacking, our Heavenly Father sends his children down to us to raise even though our parenting abilities don’t come close to measuring up to His. He too writes letters—through the scriptures; sends pictures – more than once as I have knelt in prayer with or concerning my children, he has given me glimpses of personal revelation of who my children really are and what they can become. He also models appropriate parenting which we most clearly can see through the example of the perfect life of our Savior, Jesus Christ.

The Lord stated that his work and his glory are to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man. (Moses 1:39) We have the divine role as daughters of God to participate with Him in this work as he has entrusted us as women with his children.

Sister Sheri Dew stated: “While we tend to equate motherhood solely with maternity and in effect limit it to that definition, in the Lord’s language, the word mother has layers of meaning. Of all the words or titles they could have chosen to define her role and her essence, both God the Father and Adam called Eve ‘the mother of all living’ …and they did so before she ever bore a child. Like Eve, our motherhood began before we were born. Just as worthy men were foreordained to hold the priesthood in mortality, righteous women were endowed premortally with the privilege and responsibility of motherhood. Motherhood is more than bearing children, though it is certainly and definitely that. It is the essence of who we are as women. It defines our very identity, our divine stature and nature, and the unique traits, talents and tendencies our Father gave us.”

Elder Matthew Cowley taught that “Men have to have something given to them (namely the priesthood) in mortality to make them saviors of men, but not mothers, not women. They are born with an inherent right, an inherent authority, to be the saviors of human souls and the regenerating force in the lives of God’s children.”

“Nevertheless”, Sister Dew continues, “the subject of motherhood is a very tender one, for it evokes some of our greatest joys and heartaches. Some mothers experience pain because of the children they have borne; others feel pain because they do not bear children here. For reasons known to the Lord, some women are required to wait to have children. This delay is not easy for any righteous woman. But the Lord’s timetable does not negate our nature. Some of us then, must simply find other ways to mother. And all around us are those who need to be loved, led, nurtured and mentored.”

In the words of Elder Holland, “We rejoice that the call to nurture is not limited to our own flesh and blood.”

Whether that means leading and nurturing in your role as a school teacher, Primary leader or Young Women’s leader, you are fulfilling your role as a mother as you nurture the children and youth of today. I would challenge you today to look around you. Who needs you and your influence? Who needs someone to understand them and believe in them?

I am grateful to all of the Mothers I have had over the years. I am grateful for my own mother who gave birth to me and has nurtured me for many years, but I am grateful to many others as well. Who said you could only have one mother?

I am thankful for:

— A seminary teacher who inspired me to gain a testimony by daily reminding us at the end of our class, “You have to find out for yourself if the gospel is true. You cannot live on borrowed light.”

–for Young Women advisors who had faith in me when I didn’t have faith in myself. For Sunday school teachers and seminary teachers who came to my high school softball and basketball games and left me feeling loved from their support.

–Visiting teachers who used to think that I would not want them as my visiting teachers because they were from my mother’s generation and yet as a young mother I so appreciated their example, their love for me, and most especially their wisdom.

I am thankful for women in this very ward who have loved, nurtured, and taught my children. Who have attended my children’s: dance performances, gone to football games to watch the band perform, sewed a wedding dress for my daughter, struggled in a sign language class because she was in the Primary Presidency and wanted to be able to converse with my son. Those efforts have not gone unnoticed. It may not take a village to raise a child, but it sure doesn’t hurt to have a ward family to do so.

If you are not yet married or do not have children, the Lord may have a different timetable for your life, but you ARE a mother in Zion. My sister has often nurtured my children much better than I as not a birthday or holiday goes by without a package in the mail or a visit from her letting them know that they are special to her.

Last, if the children you have borne cause you pain on this Mother’s day, please know that your Heavenly Father is aware of your situation and recognizes you as a valiant mother. Eve was glad after the fall realizing that without it she would never have had children. Yet imagine her anguish and sorrow over one son who killed another. Our children have their free agency. 1/3 of our Heavenly Father’s children chose not to keep their first estate in the premortal existence as they chose to follow Satan instead of our Father’s plan. Yet we would NEVER doubt our Heavenly Father’s parenting skills. The Lord is aware of your children. He knows them, he loves them. They were his before they were ever yours and he will never give up on them. As it says in Isaiah 9:12, “His hand is stretched out still.”

As an aside to those who see others’ children make unwise choices and say, “My children would never do that,” you probably ought not to say it in front of any witnesses. If you have never struggled with any choices that your children made you are probably the mother of a newborn.

As Sister Dew so aptly stated, “As daughters of our Heavenly Father and as daughters of Eve, we are ALL mothers in Israel and we have always been mothers. And we each have the responsibility and the privilege to love and help lead the rising generation. How will our young women learn to live as women of God unless they see what women of God look like, meaning what we wear, watch, and read; how we fill our time and our minds; how we face temptation and uncertainty; where we find true joy; and why modesty and femininity are hallmarks of righteous women? Every one of us has an overarching obligation to model righteous womanhood because our youth may not see it anywhere else. ”

Elder Holland declared, “You can’t possibly do this alone, but you do have help. The Master of Heaven and Earth is there to bless you. [As mothers and women] yours is the work of salvation and therefore you will be magnified, compensated, made more than you are and better than you have ever been. Rely on him heavily. Rely on Him forever. And “press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope. You are doing God’s work. You are doing it wonderfully well.”

May we rise to the challenge that the Lord has placed before us. May we recognize our sacred role and stewardship that our Father has entrusted us with as mothers in Zion and may we always remember that regardless of our current mortal circumstances, that we are ALL mothers for it is a divinely appointed, and eternal role.

1 Comment

Filed under Family, Holidays, motherhood, Parenting, Religion

Adoption always comes from loss

When I first felt led to adoption, all I could think of was how wonderful it would be to add a new child to our family. As I looked at photos of children needing families, I envisioned them sitting with us at our dinner table, playing at the park, opening gifts on Christmas morning, and sleeping peacefully in their new beds. Of course I knew that they would have difficulties transitioning to a new home and environment, but I had read stacks of books on adoption, and subscribed to a few adoption magazines so I felt ready to tackle any mountains that the trail of adoption put in our path.

As any parent will tell you, however, reading it and knowing it in your head is not the same as living it. I’m not sure that even reading every single book printed on the topic of adoption adequately prepares you for the day that your child says, “My Mom must not have loved me or she wouldn’t have given me away.” Or, “I guess to my first Mom I was just a piece of junk. If she really loved me, she would have kept me.” Yes, I have heard both of those, and the pain that comes from the heart of the child expressing those words can be overwhelming. Watching feelings of despair wash over a child because their birth parents abandoned them can leave a parent feeling helpless.

Sometimes no amount of reassurance of “Your mother loved you, but could not take care of you”, is enough. Sometimes there are no easy answers. I know my children were supposed to come to my family, but where does that leave the role of birthparents in their lives?

Fostering has added yet another dimension to the biological parent issue in our home. One of my foster daughter’s parents are still in her life as reunification is the current goal on her caseplan, although it will now only be with one parent as the other has made no progress and it is recommended that her rights be severed.

My other four year old will never again live with her bio parents as their rights have already been severed. She will move in exactly two weeks clear across the country to live with a cousin. That will add yet another dimension of pain and loss to the children in our home because she has been their sister in every sense of the word for 22 months now.
Now that I am on the other side of the coin as I watch them leave, I have gained more empathy for my children’s birth parents. I see not only my adoptive children’s pain, but I catch a glimpse of their biological parents’ pain as well. Yes, some made a conscious choice of drugs over their children, but I do not know what caused some of my children’s mothers to have to leave them and never return. Was it poverty? Inability to care for medical needs? A desire that their child have a better life than they could provide?

Maybe like me, they had no choice. Maybe like me, their government made the decision for them. My government decided that “blood relations” means family even though these relatives are virtual strangers. Basically, “blood is thicker than water” or more honestly, “shared blood means more than the strong and loving attachment you have to your foster family”. Maybe their government made the choice for them by telling them a second child would cost them thousands of dollars in fines, so it would be best to abandon the disabled child in order to try again without any financial penalties.

I don’t know, but as I prepare my foster daughter to leave our home, my heart aches with an intensity that I have not felt before. Her new adoptive parents–from our limited conversations–only see the happy side so far. They are still in the “Opening presents on Christmas morning and sleeping in new beds” mode I was in over 10 years ago. They reassure me all will be well, that she will be loved, that she will be happy. So far, they refuse to see the painful side; the loss that is involved in leaving not only bio parents behind, but the home and family she has had for the past 22 months. They refuse to believe that she will grieve.I know this is true for parents who have had a miscarriage or lost a child. Saying a prayer for you and thinking of you too. National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness/Remembrance Day:

They don’t understand that I will be praying for her day and night and wondering if she is sleeping well or crying herself to sleep. They don’t know of the night terrors she had when she first arrived here, nor do they want to hear about them. I worry she will have them all over again and wonder if they will know how to handle them. And as I worry…as I have sleepless nights, my empathy and appreciation for my children’s biological parents deepens. Sometimes it is in pain that our greatest life lessons are learned.

Leave a comment

Filed under Adoption, keeping connections, motherhood, Parenting

Million dollar smile

S's smile at Red RobinActually, it only cost about $5K compliments of her orthodontist, but I love this photo of Alysssa. I took it recently at her sister’s birthday dinner and it clearly conveys who she is. She just came home from Girls’ camp a few weeks ago and a leader sent me an email telling me how much she loves Alyssa and her cheerful attitude. She is such a great example not only to her siblings, but her peers as well.

Leave a comment

Filed under Parenting, Uncategorized

Happy Mother’s Day!

Is Mother’s Day at your home the stuff Hallmark commercials are made of? Do your children spontaneously burst into song as they hand you gifts they have lovingly worked on for months? Mother’s Day at my home is more like a scene from Animal House or National Lampoon’s vacation.

My day started off with a bang as my two youngest came to crawl in my bed at 6 a.m. I was exhausted as Alyssa had been up until one a.m. tossing her cookies and I had been up with her, rubbing her back and making the clucking sounds that every good Mother Hen should make when you have a child who is sick. Jeff had already risen, so his entire side of our kingsized bed was vacant. Doesn’t matter. They both prefer to wedge themselves between me and my edge of the bed. I wasn’t buying it this morning. After all, this was MOTHER’S DAY! I cracked one eyelid open long enough to look at them and say, “Don’t even think about it!” They reluctantly moved over to Jeff’s side of the bed and fell back asleep.

During church, V. decided it would be far more fun to scream during the service than quietly draw or look at books. So, I spent most of the meeting out in the foyer holding a very unhappy child on my lap because I don’t reward screaming kids by allowing them to run in the halls. I went back in and sat down briefly in the back while the Primary children sang. I WILL give them credit that it was a great song about families rather than the gaggingly sweet “Mother dear I love you so, your happy smiling face,…” that they usually sing. However, Micheline, who is being tested this week for central auditory processing disorder didn’t know most of the words. She stood in the front row of kids who were singing, and periodically grinned my direction. Every once in awhile she would mouth a word or two, but then returned to her grins.

After church, my youngest 3 ran up to me each bearing a carnation and shouted “Happy Mother’s Day!” A little suspect, since the gift to the mothers for our congregation was an instrumental CD of American Hymns.

I immediately noticed women from the congregation after ours carrying long stemmed carnations and realized that my newest Mother’s Day offerings from my children were stolen goods. I told them to put them back. The kids disappeared, but when it was time to go, they had not returned. I found them instead in that congregation’s clerk’s office trying to pilfer a few more out of some five gallon buckets. Come to think of it, maybe a more accurate description of my family would be the pickpocket scenes from Oliver!

After shooing them out the door to their father, Caleb announced that he had lost his scriptures. Unfortunately, he had most likely left them in a room that was now holding a Sunday School class for adults. Jeff was already in the car with the other kids, and since we had two vehicles at church, I told him to go tell Dad not to wait for him, but to come back in and I would help him find them. Instead, he somehow misunderstood and took off with Dad, telling him that I said for them all to go home. After circling the building 3 times looking for him, I finally realized he was gone. I was unsuccessful in my search, but 10 minutes after arriving home, the missionaries called to tell me that they had found them under a chair in a room so I told Caleb he had to put his church clothes back on to go back to the building to get them. After all, I am a big believer in natural consequences. I didn’t lose the scriptures, he did, so what better natural consequence was there? Well, according to him and his mutterings, there were quite a few consequences he would have rather chosen. Off he went back to the church with Dad, but my chances for his vote for Mother of the Year were dwindling rapidly.

After a quick lunch I tried to nap, but V. decided that screaming in church was so much fun, that she might as well continue to do it at home any time anyone even looked at her. I was anxiously awaiting my call from our missionary son who is currently in Waco, Texas, so I couldn’t really rest anyway. They can only call home on Mother’s Day and Christmas, so I was looking forward to hearing his voice. He called close to 6 p.m. and it was one of the highlights of the day. He was sounding great and said he is being transferred next week to Arlington where he will continue to be a zone leader.

Caleb then decided that perhaps he should make a card. After all, Ben had made one and he had also made one from V. to me. Micheline had some gifts she had made at school that she was anxious to give me, so Caleb didn’t want to feel left out, but I don’t think his heart was in it. After all, he was still grousing about me sending him back to the church to retrieve his scriptures. He has asked me before why his birth mother in China didn’t want him, and he has been more than grumpy the past few years on Mother’s Day, so I think this day brings issues to the forefront that he would rather not deal with. After asking Jeff to sign it and wanting the rest of the family to sign it as well, Jeff told him no, and explained that it should probably just be from him since he had made it. Obviously Caleb didn’t think so and got mad and tore it up and threw it in the garbage.

Micheline gave me her gifts from school: a beautiful photo and a darling clay wallhanging of her self. She also handed me a not easily identifiable pile of a few chocolate covered pretzels. A few weeks ago, when she made the gift at her Achievement Day at church, she had quite a bag full of chocolate covered pretzels, but the temptation for her while hiding them in her room for two weeks waiting for Mother’s Day to arrive was too great and I humorously watched the pile dwindle in size each time I put clean clothes away in her top drawer.

After dinner in which V. spent the last 10 minutes under the table screaming, we started kids in the direction of bed. Problem was, Ben decided he needed to now make me a card on the computer in addition to the one he had already made, and was not going to be dissuaded. After Jeff read to Micheline, she headed for bed, only for us to hear V. –who we thought was asleep-screaming again. Upon questioning, Micheline innocently said, “I was climbing into the top bunk and just yanked her sheet off of her before I got into bed”, with a look that said, “What could I possibly have done wrong?”

Ben is always wide awake at night and his meds had not kicked in yet, so while I texted Nicole about my day, he decided to lie down next to me on the sofa and self stim by rubbing his cheeks on my legs. I hadn’t shaved them since Friday evening, and Mr. Sensory Seeker loved the feel of stubble from my shins on his face. I finally convinced him that going to bed would be in his best interest, and off he went.

It’s now 11:30 p.m. and another Mother’s Day has come and gone. Can’t say that I’m sad that it only comes around once a year, but each year I think I gain a bit more perspective. Yes, kids can be a pain. A royal pain. And yet, isn’t that what Mother’s day is about? Mothering? Today I rocked a screamer, held a child whose feelings were hurt, gave another backrubs, read to another, and yes, even got angry more than a time or two. There will be no Mother of the Year awards in this house, and I can promise you that none of my children will ever call me “My Angel Mother.”

But would I run into traffic to save one of my kids? Of course. Go back into a burning building to find one? Absolutely. They each have their quirks that can drive me crazy, but I’m glad that they are mine. Actually, they are His. They are only on loan from above, and I am thankful to a Heavenly Father who in spite of my glaring ineptness, trusts me enough to attempt to raise a few of His children. He knows them better than I do, and on days like today when I just can’t figure out why V. needs to scream so much, or why Micheline needs to torment her, or a million other why’s, I have to turn it over to Him. At a time when many of my friends are starting to have empty nests, I have a 3 year old who wrote on the walls today with crayon.

Lynn sent me a hilarious card with a sweet message, and Nicole came by with a sweet card she had made and a gift certificate for a massage. Believe me, after the day I had today, I will be scheduling it soon.

1 Comment

Filed under celebrations, Holidays, Parenting