Simply A Ramble

Thanks to The Mr. who came home last night, handed me some vitamins, sent me to bed and took over the kids, I'm feeling much better. Still slightly icky, but way, way better than yesterday. I was sleeping by 7:30 last night and that sure helped.

Today we've gotten sort of good news. The Little Miss has basically graduated from Physical Therapy. That is really amazing. She started out at a physical capacity of about 1/2 her age, and now is only about a month behind in one single area. That's a lot of work for one little girl. The other sort of good news is that her mom has graduated to two visits a week. When the goal is to send them home, this is happy news. I think for the foster family it is both good and bad.

You see, it seems good because it is closer to the goal. Baby goes home. That's the goal. And yet as the foster family, you have plenty of doubts. You wonder how this will effect the child. Will they go back to some of their "bad" behaviors, like pulling out their hair or vomiting, if the visits increase? Will the parent continue to make progress with having more visits or will it prove to be too much? Will this get even more confusing to a small child? When they go home, will the parent revert to the same things that got this child into care in the first place? Will this child even make it, or will I someday see her on the 10 O'clock news as the latest victim of a drive by, overdose, or some other violence? The reality is, that's the neighborhood she'll be going back too.

Personally, as a foster mom, I don't look too far down the road. It's just simply too difficult. I don't want to think about the big question of will she go or will she stay. I don't want to think about how long I'll get to love this child or what it will be like when she's no longer a part of my every day world. As a reminder to myself, whenever I schedule her next baby well check, I always say, this will be her appointment if she's still with us.

It's a strange and funny balance to love this child as my own, to think of her as always having been here and always going to be here and yet to have the distance and know that she will be going on soon. I am quite certain that by the time I'm done being a foster mom, I will have a heart full of scars. I don't know any other way to do this. You love them full out, just as much as your own kids, and yet you know the heart ache is just around the corner. I know that each long term placement child will leave a wound in my heart when they go home, but I don't know how not to do this crazy thing.

It seems as though people are given their thing. Each has their cause, their thing they try to make a difference in the world with. Mine seems to be kids. For me, I don't know how you can't be involved with them, I don't know how you can't see the importance of what we do to them and with them. I don't know how you can't be for helping kids and in turn helping families. Kids don't ask for the messes their born into, but they're there, so shouldn't we do what we can to help them?

But if your thing is saving the environment or changing the thought patterns of a generation or political revolution, this all seems like utter nonsense.

Heck, even to me there are days that this whole thing seems like nonsense. I often think that what I do doesn't make much difference in all reality. I mean, it's only really going to have an impact on a few kids, and even then I'm really being arrogant to assume that I'm making an impact at all.

Fixated On A Nap

Ever wake up feeling like the living dead?

That's me today.

I'm not sure what happened. I was fine when I went to sleep last night. Gratefully slept through the whole night and got up at the crack of early.

The longer I was up the worse I felt. I hope it's a 24 hour thing. I feel like I can't focus my eyes or stay awake.

But, wait a minute, I'm the mom.

Yep, you know what that means. I made the breakfasts, got them all dressed and all the teeth brushed. The laundry is sorted and washing and drying. It's even being folded. Kindergarten is done for the day and dinner is thawing. Emails have been sent.


My goal for the next few hours is to get that baby napping so I can plant the other two and catch a little nap myself.

Before that happens though, I'll be doing some more laundry, making yet another set of meals and teaching various subjects to yet another boy. Depending on how the day goes, I may even go to piano lessons and make dinner before sneaking in that little nap.

Of course, it's entirely possible the nap will remain elusive from me all day. That would be sad.

I'd really like a little nap.

Let It Go

I hesitate to write it out in words and yet I will.

I think we've finally found our school rhythm.

It's only taken about 5 years. I've spent a lot of time trying to figure out the puzzle of my kids. Who they are and how they are willing to be taught.

Of course, the answer is far from what I wanted it to be, or at least what I thought it should be. Even though I'm a well read homeschooler, I still was trapped in the idea that our homeschool should somehow resemble someone else's and that what worked for someone else would work for us. Well, I'm sure that's the case, it's just that it must be someone I haven't met yet.

I've come to really like discipline and structure. There was great comfort in making a yearly lesson plan, having all the books and work divided up into how much per subject per day. I loved the security of knowing that in the end I'd have it all checked off on the assignment sheets, all the papers filed away, and there would be paper proof that I was doing it all right.

Reality is, it isn't at all like that. Now, don't misunderstand here, it isn't that I've thrown the whole plan out, it's just that I've toned it down a bit. We're having really pleasant days and getting through loads of material. It just doesn't look the way I pictured it.

We do still spend a lot of time together around the kitchen or dining room table. It's just that the table is full of blocks or art supplies and I'm reading aloud for hours on end. We're reading it all, it seems. There is no end to what they will listen to. Even the youngest. We mix literature greats with nursery rhymes, science with science fiction, history with faire tales.

Everyone is content.

We are currently keeping our math, grammar and hands on science work to a single short daily lesson. Somehow, knowing they will only spend 30 minutes at most on these tasks they find so abhorrent, makes it easy to them.

We've filled up the free time with more creation--arts and crafts, music and writing. Comic books have been produced. Newspapers. Songs. Sculpture and paintings. Then sports come into play. There is swimming and Tae Kwon Do and very soon basketball. There are church and homeschool activities that we may actually be able to participate in this year. Then there are the friends to be played with.

Finally, I've given up my iron clad control over the screens. Once I stopped being a crazy woman, they started to obey. It's not very often these days that my request for the turning off of a screen is met with whining or tantrums. Sometimes there is some bargaining, but even that is at a manageable level.

I think that in the last years the kids have grown a lot. I know that I have grown more.

That said, today I was blessed with the innocence of a soon to be mama. She said that we moms that struggle with our to do lists just need to pray about them and God will give us the time to get it all done.

As my friends in Texas would say, well bless her heart, she'll come around.

I speak only for myself here as an almost a 10 year veteran of the mommy life, that praying to God about the to do list is a wise and fruitful thing to do. It just isn't necessarily that God gives you the time to get it all done.

Sometimes He called to mind my motives for what was on the list. Sometimes He reminded of my blessings in even having a list or children underfoot while trying to accomplish the list. Sometimes it was my sense of pride. Often it is my priorities. Sometimes He works on your soul to be content with what is. Often He reminds me that I am simply to obey him first and quickly, not myself. I am to rely on Him, not me.

So many years later down the list road, I've learned some lessons. I still make the lists. But now my reasons are so very different. I make them because I've spent my energy serving little ones and the details of life can get fuzzy. I make the lists to try to remember to do the special things for my special ones. I make the lists to remember my commitments and obligations. I make lists to remember to be in touch with the people who make my ordinary mortal life extraordinary. I make lists to cement the memories.

Mixed Emotions

It's all a jumble this morning, and so we're taking a break. Just a short one, not the whole day off, just long enough for everyone to snack and be back on balance.

The Mr. was out a little late last night with a friend. I waited up. I shouldn't have, as I remained up most of the night, thanks to The Little Miss. He returned bursting with the good news of a new baby.

Then we geared up for a change in the family schedule. The Mr.'s company moved to a new office in downtown Milwaukee. No big deal really, except he went from a nice, large office with windows and a door, to a tiny beige cube in the middle of a football field of cubes. Not so fun. It's not a bad thing overall, but a transition none the less.

We've been going through the Autism stuff all over again, as I've said before. What that means in all practicality is collecting various bodily fluids and shipping them to various places. I spent an hour of my morning and plenty of dollars to ship pee across the world.

From there we went over to the hospital to get The Little Mr.'s blood drawn. One of my least favorite mommy experiences of all times. This morning it took at least 4 tries, 3 band aids, 7 vials, 1 phone call, 3 nurses, 7 stickers, 1 stuffed animal, 2 tissues, lots of tears, about a million "owwies", 10 "make it stop mommy", and 1 very brave little boy to get it done. Now that we're home, it takes 1 TV show, fruit for the boys, coffee and computer time for mom.

So with all that tied up together today, I'm feeling a bit mixed. I'm overjoyed at my friends big news. Babies are the most wonderful experience of a lifetime, and yet, after all I went through with my baby today...I'm feeling a bit drained.

Soon The Little Miss will be back from her visit with her mom, and we'll have the fall out of that to add in too. She's not awful about it anymore, but I'm sure it is confusing to someone so little. It's confusing to me, and I'm the grown up.

It's Friday And...

I have a sitter for a date with my hubby.
The kids are not fighting.
The days are in the 80's and the nights in the 50's, with a breeze.
The baby slept through the night.
The Little Mr. gave me a genuine hug last night.
The Little Mr.'s have had a relatively good school week.
The fridge isn't quite empty yet.
We had more than two high schoolers on Tuesday, and they are a good group.
They actually picked up my recycling this week.
The roof is done.
I actually have a dinner plan.
I will get some laundry done, finally.
The leaves are starting to turn.

Today is Friday, and it seems as though all is right with the world.

And yet on another front, there is a local story--at least I think it's local about a little boy, age 6, with Autism, who is being charged with assaulting his school helper. Have we lost our minds? I'll try to find the story link for you later.

I'll also try to get the link to a video about a Fatherhood group that The Mr. is involved with. It's a cool thing. They're talking about the difference between being a father and being a Dad.

I think it's about time we get on the ball with parenting. These little critters we bring into our lives aren't just really cute and expensive play things or snazzy accessories. They are, just as the cliché says, our future. I'm thinking we ought to be a bit more careful about how we treat them and raise them.

Heck, what do I know, I'm just a mom!

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Look on the side for the link to the fatherhood video.

Catch Up Rambles

I haven't been here in a while, well, I've stopped in, but not had the time to post. Life is a little busy around this place.

It's a lot like what another blogger said yesterday. When you homeschool, that comes first. And so we're school focused these days, even though it's hard. But all of life is hard. If you really stopped and thought about it all the time, every last bit of it is hard or uncomfortable, especially if it is something worth while.

Last night I was writing in my sleep. It was a funny thing. I kept waking up and thinking to myself, I have to remember this so I can write it tomorrow. That line is so good, I have to remember it. Today, all I remember is that I needed to remember.

While I was in Texas, I was able to spend whole hours writing things. Now that I'm home, it seems silly. When I left Texas, I put those notebooks into my bag, stepped onto the plane and flew out of a dream and into my real life. My notebooks are still in the bag, shoved under the bed. I wanted to come home and continue, reading, writing and exercising. So far, I've continued to read. I know, it's better than nothing.

Here's how it really is.

Autism leaves a fingerprint on a child, but it leaves a footprint on a family.

Just when you think you've calmed it to a manageable roar, it goes wild again. You're heart breaks for your child all over again. You become the determined healer of your child again. You stop all the other extras in life and simply do what ever it takes. You spend the money. You make the sacrifices. You measure out all the meds and convince him to take them.

You do what you have to do.

You remember the goal.

The best education you can give him with the least outside pain.

Now, I don't mean sheltering him or keeping him in a bubble, but certainly I do mean not sending him off to be the scapegoat, the target for the bully, the recipient of all school yard taunts and pranks. I do mean to give him the idea that he is capable, even if the greater world thinks perhaps he isn't anything more than a trouble maker. I want him to learn to believe in himself, his abilities and to like himself.

It's hard, this parenting job. Last night, I rolled over in bed and said to The Mr., "Why has God given me these kids?" I'd like an easy job instead.

God knows something I don't. He always does. I'll just rest in knowing I've said yes when I was asked.

Invisible Mom

A dear friend sent this to me this morning. It's just the right words for this week. I'm happy to be home, but it's been an exhausting and brutal week as a mom. Not so bad as a person, not too hard to accomplish, but a bit hard for shaking the mommy doubts and guilts.

Thanks for thinking of me, Maggie. I miss seeing you.



It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?' Obviously not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible.

Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?

Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being.
I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.'

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, and she's gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought this for you.'

It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: 'To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman replied, 'Because God will see it.'

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.

The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree. When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home for Thanksgiving, 'My mom gets up at four in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself.

I just want him to want to come home. Then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'You're gonna love it here.'

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. It cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

Great Job, Moms!!

Life is short.
Forgive quickly.
Kiss slowly.
Love truly.
Laugh uncontrollably,
and never regret anything that made you smile.

Rest For My Soul

My trip has ended and I'm back at home. It seems that I ate my way through Texas, and I have an extra ten pounds to prove it. Good thing I'm back home again.

While in Texas I stayed with Ms. K. She is amazing, wonderful, kind, patient, generous and loving. Her home is beautiful and tranquil. It was a bit of a haven to me. So peaceful. Not only was I able to rest my exhausted body, but I had the space to rest my mind.

Now, back at home, my life is moving along at the breakneck pace of a homeschooling mom of three, who has a knack for taking on one too many things. It's a good life. There is laughter and love here, but it's also loud and busy.

My return goals are to keep reading at the pace I was reading at in Texas, to keep writing in a focused way as often as I can manage with three little people under foot, and to keep in my heart that sense of peace I felt while I was away.

Thank you to The Mr. for planning this and being a real Dad. Thank you Ms. K. for letting me rest my whole being in your space.

Sitting Still Is Doing Something

I am happily being toasted in Texas. It is one warm place. Today was actually quite nice. It was warm, but not overpowering. There was sunshine and a nice breeze. I spent some time walking around on the campus while Ms. K. was having some office hours.

I've also been working hard at not much. I've been reading, writing and sleeping. I'm eating all sorts of forbidden foods and having tea. It's our speciality, Ms. K. and I. We really find that there is nothing in life so wonderful as a pot of tea shared with a friend. Top it off with some good conversation and laughter and that's all there is. Who needs more?

Well, I meant that in a rhetorical sort of way, but now thinking about it, around here it seems that everyone needs more. Each person I meet wants to know all I've done and seen since I've arrived and all that I'm planning to do and see before I go. They really aren't sold on the idea that it is a pleasure trip for me to sit still, be quiet, read and write.

I mean, if you lived in my regular, everyday life, you'd be longing for some time to sit still and be quiet too. I've been sitting in some really beautiful places. Some as quiet and beautiful as a church, stained glass and all, and some just plain busy full of young students. Each has it's merit.

I'll be back in the thick of the regular days soon enough, so for now, I'm just going to rest and enjoy. Maybe I'll even do a few things just for those folks who want me to be doing!

South Verses North

Life in the South is different than life in the North.

I know. This is a real news flash for those of you who travel a bit. As a person who hasn't been on a plane in 10 years or spent any amount of time outside of my own state, let me just assure you, life is different in different places.

Here's what I've noticed and experienced so far. Down here in the South, people socialize. There seems to be a constant invitation to something. These wonderful Southern people are greatly concerned that I may be sitting alone somewhere and doing nothing. It makes me smirk to think that was exactly why I was sent here! Well, not exactly to do nothing, but to sleep, eat, read, write and visit with the lovely Ms. K. And visit we have been.

I've also noticed that there is a real distinction between the man and woman here. I don't mean in a a sexest sort of demeaning way. It isn't that at all. And, as a Northerner, it's a little hard to explain it really. All I can say, is that there is a distinct difference between the men and women here in how they interact with each other and how men and women interact with each other in the North. I wonder if the long, hard winter weather we experience up North makes us a hard people.

It isn't like we're unkind to each other in the North. That isn't it at all. In fact we're a down right helpful bunch, but we don't bond. We don't take a genuine interest in each other. We don't break down those boundaries and really get to know one another. But, we're great at helping each other survive.

Another thing I've noticed down here is the level of courtesy and politeness. It is much more formal. Everything is ma am and sir, please and thank you, may I get you something, anything? I must get you something! It's almost an insult if you don't let them serve you something in some manner. People look you in the eyes when they're speaking to you and look deeply into your eyes when you're speaking. Did I mention they offer you a lot of drinks? And with good reason too. It is warm and wet here in September.

Yesterday Ms. K. and I did some walking on the dam at Lake Waco. A very pretty place. Also a very hot and humid place. For a short while there was a beautiful little breeze, but it was short! That was my first experience of thinking I'd drunk enough water and learning I was about 1/2 gallon behind! I caught up nicely but the afternoon. We did a little shopping. It is a girl vacation after all. Then we went to a social. It was quite nice. Perhaps the most polite, well behaved children under 5 I've ever met. I also experienced the hottest Texas chili I've ever eaten in my life. I eat everything. I have an iron stomach. This was burn your lips off hot. Delightful too, I might add. Macaroni and cheese with a little kick. And pie. Pecan and buttermilk. That's peecan, not pacon like we say up North, and buttermilk. I don't think I've ever eaten anything like a buttermilk pie before. It was wonderful. Sweet and tangy, smooth and sort of carmelly all at the same time.

And just in case you've been wondering, the family at home is doing just great. The Mr. has everything under control. School is still happening. The Little Ms. is still working hard at improving her walking and talking. The Littlest Mr. is moving right along in Kindergarten, and The Little Mr. is learning what daddy thinks a 4th grader is like. Hmm, perhaps mom isn't the meanest or worst teacher in the world!

The Big Trip

I'm here. Or maybe it's that I'm there.

Either way, I'm on vacation. I'm in the very warm state of Texas hanging out with my dear friend. It's wonderful. It's extremely quiet. I have no to do list. I have no little voices, no whines for treats, no sticky grabby fingers or dirty, stinky feet to contend with.

I have a wonderful, comfy bed to snooze in. I have a nice stack of books that I brought with me, plus a pile that Ms. K thought I might enjoy. I have all my notebooks. I have new pens. It's all around pretty delightful.

I'm eating well. That means all sorts of things that my family can't eat without getting sick. I'm relaxing with a capital R.

Now, don't misunderstand. I love my family. I love my busy, crazy life. But this too is something to love. It's like a little slice of heaven. Just a snippet to keep me going for the next couple of years.

It's like being underwater for a long time. It's cool and peaceful and you are seeing incredible things, but eventually your lungs ache for a breath of air. And then when you surface, the air is just as sweet as the underwater world you were resting in was.

That's where I'm at.

This is just as good as my everyday. It's just a different sort of good.

Time to break into another book.