The Prayer That Brought Tears to My Eyes

Every night the girls and I pray together. We hold hands in a little circle and each of us prays. I think N has a special gift for prayer, as every time she prays, she amazes me with her thoughtfulness for others and ability to remember things we should be praying for. Superman says it's probably just because it's the one time she can talk as much as she wants, and we won't ask her to be quiet. =) I like my idea better, though. 

Anyhoo, the other night, we were praying together, and N surprised me with her usual articulation. And then she said this, "Thank you for dying on the cross. And thank you that you are alive today!" And she said it with such conviction and appreciation! It wasn't an empty prayer. She was genuinely thankful for our Savior. And it filled my heart to overflowing with pride. In a good way. I was just so darn proud of her, and her sweet little 4-year-old innocent prayer. Isn't that what it all boils down to, anyway? We would be nowhere if it weren't for the gift of salvation given to us by a Grace-filled Father. Enter mommy tears. 

56. Quiet moments with a sick boy in the middle of the night

57. Experiencing spring for the first time in our house

58. Sharing our farm with others

59. The llama coming to me for the first time

60. Family dinners

61. Running outside in overcast weather

62. Evening walks

63. Picnics with friends

64. Seeing Superman happy

65. Homeopathic ways of healing a sick child

66. Sleeping deeply

67. Counting down the days until summer!

P.S. We are smack dab in the midst of our 30 Days of Service, and what a blessing it's been! I'll soon be sharing what we've done so far, and what we have on our plate for the next few weeks!

Got Hail?

We had a hail storm like nothing I've seen in my life yesterday. I know to some of you, this is no big deal, but around our parts, it was a hugely fun surprise and we were all running around screaming like kids in a candy store (with money in our pockets). 

Here's M-Dog taking a dare and going out for a run in it: 

That's a pretty big hail stone, if you ask me!

It was just so beautiful coming down and seeing it cover our driveway like snow:

Seriously, the kids had so much fun. I did, too.

The chickens were out roaming when it hit, so they went for cover under our steps:

J-Man was pretty sure it was the neatest thing ever. 

I'm Gonna Be A Hot Mama!

Well, not me. I guess you could say I'm a hot mama (thank you very much!), but this post isn't about me.

The other day during our devotions, we asked the kids what they would like to be when they grow up.

Mr. C: A policeman or a math teacher (ah, the pitter-patter of a daddy's heart when a son wants to follow in his footsteps. The math teacher part, not the policeman part.)

J-Man: A guitar player at church (can you hear my heart screaming with joy at the thought of that?? Boy, I would be one proud mama...)

M-Dog: A fireman. Luckily, he hasn't started any obsessions with fire just yet...

N: A hot mama! (well, well, well...I told her it shouldn't be hard for her to achieve since she's already beautiful, and I think she'd make a wonderful mama!)

Happy Birthday, N!

The last few days somehow went by and I was too busy to write in my blog. I think Superman having a 5-day weekend has something to do with it. For some reason, when he's home, I get half the amount of stuff done, but twice as much needs to be done. Why is that?

At any rate, today is N's birthday! Our little girl is officially three. I can't believe it! It's amazing how far she has come in less than 2 years. I remember her coming home to us at 13 months old...clingy, whiny, and scared of the world (and daddy). Now, here she is...confident (maybe a bit too confident), feisty, and the book definition of a "daddy's girl." She is beautiful and probably the best helper I've ever met. She knows what we need before we ask for it. Superman will sit down at the computer, and she'll go running off to get his glasses. He'll come home from work and take his shoes off, and she'll go grab his slippers. No joke. We haven't even taught her to do that!

She's a girly girl who loves anything pink. And when great-grandma and great-grandpa gave her a little pink purse, she was in heaven!

Oh, and I made cake pops for the first time. They're not gorgeous, but hey, for a first attempt, they're not bad!

More later!

Super Bowl Fun

We're really not football enthusiasts. We keep waiting for a team that we have a connection to so we can root for them. So far, there really hasn't been one. We don't have any football teams in our town, and we don't know anyone through six degrees of separation who plays for a pro team. But Superman read that the coach of the Colts was pro-life, so we decided to go ahead and root for them.

We have a Super Bowl party every year with the kids even though we don't watch football at any other time. Superman thinks it's important to make sure the kids know how to "yell at the t.v." and "pretend like we're really into it" while guzzling down root beer and stuffing our faces with chips and dip.

Yesterday was fun. The kids made it through the first half pretty well. Then they took all the balloons I had blown up out to the backyard and popped them all. Apparently that was more fun than watching a bunch of guys ram into each other.

Here's N admiring her "beer":

And M-Dog:

Mr. C:

J-Man (isn't this the cutest picture? I can just see the grown man in him oozing out...):

Showing his incredible muscles:

Daddy cuddling with M-Dog and N...can you see how blue Superman's eyes are??






We're men!

Gobbling

The day after Christmas, we decided to live on the edge and drive out to Idaho to see my brother and his family. It was quite the adventure, being that we only stayed there 1.5 days, and drove 9 hours out and 10.5 hours back. But, it was fully worth it!

On the way home, we went through Reno, Nevada. It's a mini-metropolis of hotels, casinos, and other sundry businesses. As we drove through, we talked to the kids about all the casinos. Superman explained what gambling was. He broke it down like this: "If I told you to give me $20, and if you could guess a correct number between 1 and 1 million, I would give you $40. If you got it wrong, though, I would get to keep your $20."

The kids all seemed to get that. Well, I don't know about N...she was licking the sticky lollipop residue off her fingers. And G, well, she was chewing on leftover french fries and bits of old food from her car seat. But, I digress.

The boys all seemed to be intrigued with this "gambling" concept. Mr. C, especially. He kept asking all sorts of questions and saying, "What a rip off!" and, "Why would anyone give their money away??" We continued on home, feeling very productive after such a great conversation.

Fast forward to last night. The boys are all watching a cartoon in M-Dog's room. Mr. C comes running in to the family room and exclaims, "Daddy! The t.v. just told us we should go gobbling!" To which I said, "What? Gobbling? What does that mean?" Mr. C says, "You know. They were telling us to put all our money is some machine so they could take it all! They were telling us to go gobbling!"

Ha. The things kids say. It's like when I was growing up and always thought grilled cheese was GIRL cheese. I think I was like 13 before I realized it was grilled.

How Adoption Changed My Views--Part 2

When we had Mr. C, he was perfect. Or at least, perfect in our sight. He was a typical first child...smart, early walker, constantly stimulated. We had nothing else to do but shower our boy with love and attention, read to him constantly, do puzzles with him, and help him grow his brain. Being that Superman is a teacher, he had half the year off to spend with our firstborn. I think we crammed more stimulation into that first year than in all the ensuing years combined.

Right before Mr. C turned one year old, J-Man was placed with us. Suddenly, spending unending amounts of time interacting with Mr. C became close to impossible. And I felt pretty guilty for it.

I realized when we got J-Man that he didn't get that same running start that Mr. C did. He had already been in 3 foster homes in his near-six months of life. He had been hospitalized for pneumonia and RSV and had never had anyone sit down and read to him or wrestle with him. And there was an obvious difference between where he was developmentally at 6 months, and where Mr. C had been at 6 months.

And when M-Dog and N came to us, it was even more apparent. They had been removed from their birth parents when M-Dog was 2 years, and N was 5 weeks. They went on to three foster homes before the Lord planted us on their front step. And as I've said before, M-Dog was three by that time. And he didn't speak. So much vital time had passed, and those so-important first few years were thrown by the wayside, never to be had again. N was 13 months when we got her, and was still crawling, only saying "mama" and just behind in general.

Thankfully, we got G at six weeks. She was still young, and had only been in one foster home, so her transition to our home was simple.

So this is what I've learned:

1. It's nearly impossible (or maybe even impossible) to give all our children the same level of undivided attention that our firstborn received.

2. Children adopted out of foster care almost always come with baggage. But, the baggage is so worth carrying. Because seeing your child blossom from the child he or she was into the child he or she is becoming is one of the most rewarding experiences. Ever.

3. I can't expect the same responses and growth out of each of our children. Of course, this would apply if we only had biological children as well, but I believe it's more pronounced in adopted children. These kids each have their own story, their own challenges, their own pains, and their own triumphs. Their pasts have shaped who they are, and I have to flexibly work around those nuances and parent them individually instead of as a group.

It's hard to admit, but there have been times (usually the challenging times), when I have thought to myself, "Man, it would have been so much easier to just have our own biological kids." I know that sounds really bad. I know that every child is unique, and who knows what future children of ours would have turned out like. But, at least I would know where they come from, you know? At least I would know that they were provided for, loved, and given the best I could give them. I won't lie, it's hard to be an adoptive parent. But as I've said before, it's also one of the most amazing adventures.

And it's a perfect illustration of the way our Lord "adopts" us, despite our histories. Despite our shortcomings and failures, He loves us perfectly. And I am so confident that when He sees us blossom, it makes Him giddy with excitement.

Birthday Party for Jesus

I know I said earlier that I probably wouldn't be on until after Christmas, but I have a few quiet moments right now, and I wanted to share our birthday party for Jesus. It was wonderful.

I made a chocolate cake. Already a good start to a party.


We lit a candle. One, for His first birth...so important, the first of many important days of our Savior.

We left a chair empty at the head of the table for Him.

We sang happy birthday.

We each prayed and thanked Jesus for something He has given us. Here's what the kids said:

N: Jesus, thank you Jesus. Jesus, thank you Jesus. Amen.

M-Dog: Dear God, thank you for my spark scooter. {Insert commentary: M hasn't received a spark scooter. It's just what he asked Santa for. So we stopped and explained to the kids the types of things they might be thankful for--family, friends, church, adoption, etc.} His revised prayer: Dear God, thank you for something, Amen.

J-Man: Dear Lord, thank you for our house. In Jesus' name, amen.

Mr. C: Dear Lord, thank you for my DS (as in Nintendo DS). In Jesus' name, amen.

Hmmm...not quite as deep and meaningful as I expected.

No worries. We enjoyed our cake. We shared a moment. And I, as a mommy, enjoyed a memory with my kids, even if they won't remember it.

So, friends, who is at the head of your table?

On Birthparents...

When J-Man came to us, his parental rights terminated about 2 weeks later. Being new adoptive parents, we had no idea how the process works, what to expect, etc. Our social worker told us the mom had 60 days to appeal, but that she most likely wouldn't. And, she didn't. Thankfully.

We did discover, however, while perusing the documents detailing J-Man's life, the names of both birth parents. This got us thinking. Wouldn't it be great if we could have some photos of them? I mean, I'm not adopted, but I often long to know more about my dad's history since he passed away in 2000. I know he carried with him stories from abroad, where he grew up in India. I wished he had shared his language and his culture with us more. I can only imagine how those feelings would be magnified if I had never met my birth parents and didn't know who I looked like. I would imagine there would be a hole somewhere in me...longing to know who I came from, where I came from, whose nose I had, whose eyes I had.

So, with that, we decided to hire a private investigator to track down J-Man's birth parents and get some photos for us.

It took a few months, but in the end, we ended up with one photo of birth mom and a silent video of birth dad. Along with that came a good supply of info on both parents. We have those items locked up in a safe that's only for J-Man's eyes. No one else in our family has ever seen it, not even our other kids. When he's ready to share it with people, he is welcome to do it. Occasionally, we open up that safe, show J-Man who is birth parents were and remind him just how much we love him. We remind him that God put him in our lives, that we CHOSE him because he was the perfect boy for our family and that any time he has questions about where he came from, he can ask.

I'm so happy we made the decision to get those photos. We hope to update that file in a few years just so we can keep tabs on them; that way if J-Man decides when he's grown that he wants to find his birth parents, he won't have to trudge through 20 years of mystery to find them.

M-Dog, N and G were all such a different story--since we did visits with birth mom for awhile, I just asked (through the social worker) for her to bring photos and a letter to each of the kids at their last meeting. She obliged, so they each have something from her. We also set up an e-mail account so both the birth parents could send messages at any time to the kids.

I'm curious to see whether our kids will have a desire to find their birth parents later in life. As much as I want to hold on to them as "my own," I know that it's not my right to hold them back from something so important should they decide they need to discover their histories.

What are your feelings on this?

My Sweet N...

N...

My tough,
spunky,
"girly" girl.

She was seriously made in Heaven just for our family. Of course, all of our children were, but it is just so apparent with her.

Superman and I had always said we were just going to have boys. We knew it. We had Mr. C and J-Dog, and just knew that we would continue our tradition with just boys. We didn't know what to do with girls. I mean, I am one, but for some reason, I just couldn't picture myself as a mom of a girl.

But then N came along. I fell in love with her. And Superman, who said if he ever did have a girl (which he wouldn't) he wouldn't treat her any differently than his boys. Of course. But that little lady has wrapped that man so tight around her finger I think her circulation is getting cut off. She just has to bat her eyes at him and he melts into a blubbering mess. Oh, we never knew what we were missing.

Having a girl changed our home forever. N is a tomboy at heart. Having three older brothers has ensured her citizenship in the City of Toughness. She falls down hills, gets blood, bonks her head, wrestles with her daddy (and {adoring} brothers). But, but...she loves pink. She is like a magnet to all things glittery, shiny and feminine. She loves purses and shoes. She's a girl. And I *love* it!

She loves her daddy like nothing else. Which is funny since for the first few months after she came to us, she couldn't handle him even looking at her. She would cling to me like nothing else. But now, if she gets an ow-eee, it's to daddy she runs. That man holds her heart, and I could not be happier. Seeing the tenderness she has brought to him fills me with sheer delight. Those two are molded together. She is the perfect daughter for Superman...the perfect balance of guts, spunk and tenderness.

And to top it off, after getting her little sister G, I've been blessed to see the nurturing, mothering side of her, and it's oh, so beautiful.

And tomorrow I will present our sweet little G!