I am a LITTLE excited! We MAY have committed RENTERS for our house!! This is fantastic because NOW we have a DEADLINE to actually FINISH it!

I have been accused one or two times of being impatient. (Maybe more like three...)...

And so the SAME day our HOPEFUL renters decided to rent our house, I excitedly told Starling that WE (I obviously didn't think that part through) were going to go pick out travertine for our backsplash in the kitchen.

My excitement. AND good mood. melted like chocolate left stuck to a leather seat of a mini van during a MS summer. (Not that I know ANYTHING about that).

I THOUGHT we would ONLY have four kids, but Isaiah's pink eye was STILL festery, so he couldn't go to school for the 7th day in a ROW. With only one kid down and FIVE to manage... shopping for travertine became a very unpleasant, unproductive, humiliating, flustering, NEED THERAPY AFTER kind of endeavor.

Immediately two boys needed to pee. Starling, of course, was engrossed in deep conversation with the worker man about how much travertine they had in stock and how much travertine they would have to order. I left one buggy load of children WITH Starling and attempted to take the other two boys to pee. What actually ensued, was two boys high tailing it as soon as their feet hit the concrete (like fire or a snake was caught in their drawers) through the store while I, horrified, tried to WHISPER yell at the back of their heads from 10 aisles away. They completely ignored me, Isaiah darting around customers and workers, tripping old people and Peyton dangling far behind, but in hot pursuit.

I was trying to walk/run after them without looking anymore conspicuous than I already was. I smile/growled and apologized to people as I followed their trail. Of course, they had NO idea WHERE they were running, since they didn't even wait for directions. And just when I got them cornered I happened to glance behind me to see Boeing, who had climbed OUT of the buggy, trotting as fast as his little chubby legs could go, face planting, returning to run, bumping into people.

I directed the two full bladder boys towards the bathroom and tried to grab Boeing. That little fart ran around me and followed the boys into the bathroom. The MEN'S bathroom.

I didn't have a choice. Isaiah and Peyton ran out of the bathroom. Boeing did not. I had to go in. Strange looks from some men double checking to see if they were in the right place? Yes. There were urinals. Mortification on my face? Yes. Plenty.

I retrieved my children. And we had a blissfully SHORT and not so SWEET talk.

We walked TOGETHER back to Starling. The children were returned to the shopping carts.

I was taking deep breaths, counting to fifty, focusing on "the good," but exactly TWO seconds after I turned my head to face Starling's mini masterpiece of travertine he had laid on the ground, Boeing was OUT of the buggy giggling like a wild ban chi. I took off after him. Isaiah took that opportunity to get ALL the children ready for a game of hide and seek. I thought I might KILL someone.

OH! And during all of this I am getting calls from my Craigslist people. I pulled a play out of my grandma's handbook, threatened to ruin my children's life and everything they hold dear if they so much as wiggled their feet at the shelves content. They believed me because I never lie. I hauled Boeing outside with me to sell some belts, then had to DRIVE to CVS to sell some lady $40 worth of Barbie crap because she didn't know how to FIND Home Depot. OR how to tell time. But ANY-WAY.

I quickly informed Starling that I was taking all five children to the car and he could come back. WITHOUT us.

So we left, and Starling bought everything at Lowes despite our Home Depot coupon because they had better travertine. (Passing up coupons is a difficult thing for my family. But taking care of an impatient wife bouncing up and down like a Chihuahua, makes hard choices a little easier).

LOOONG story short, Lowe's got everything in today and Starling picked it up.

Today is Friday. Today is date night. TODAY WENDI Beeeegggeed to travertine our kitchen for date night. (I call that eager. Not impatient).

So we ARE! I am so happy! Because once we are ALL finished with the inside, we can FINALLY work on the OUTSIDE. (Which- if you've seen it, is HIDEOUS)!

And then! When our house is completely finished and all "prettied up" as Brooklyn says, we'll do what we ALWAYS do- MOVE out!

But this time it will be to a fully furnished apartment in Cozumel instead of another fixer upper.

Dear Starling,

You are a wonderful husband that I obviously do NOT deserve. Thank you for never telling me no to my goals and dreams, even when you'd be completely  justified in doing so.

Dear Kids,

PLEASE, just relax and enjoy watching a movie before bedtime so Mommy can help Daddy beautify our kitchen. I don't have medication strong enough to keep me in check. IF. You. Don't.

Dear God,

Thank you for giving Starling patience since You didn't see fit to give me any.

Rat Race

Dear BLOG,

Right this minute I feel like throwing a royal tantrum and screaming, "I am SICK of FEEEEEDING and CLEANING CHILDREN!!! " If even HALF the portion of food that lands on the table, floor, and CLOTHES of my children ever ventured into their MOUTHS, I could probably skip 6th meal.

 Oh. And I want to burn all the dirty laundry.

 And I ALREADY ate my ice cream for the DAY! And my popcorn. And had my NAP. And let's face it. Singing Kumbaya at the top of my lungs only helps so much. Personal time-outs only work if they are actually PERSONAL!

 And WHY do we have WINDOWS in EVERY ROOM IN OUR HOUSE including BATHROOMS?? There is NOOOO where to hide! Me exiting a room is equivalent to me saying, "BET YOU CAN'T FIND ME!!" And it's a definite race. And they, the children, ALWAYS win. THANK goodness for Friday DATE night! But it is SUNDAY. NOT THURSDAY. I'm. Gonna. Die.     

I think I need to join a group called "Parents Anonymous" and I need to go to weekly meetings and hear other parents say, "My child made blue Kool-Aid on my tan kitchen rug, too."

And maybe one to say, "My one year old also enjoys stacking ice chests, bicycles, and potty chairs on top of each other to reach my personal belongs and then promptly destroys them."

And I need volunteers to say THESE things to Me, Also:

"Your seven year old had the opportunity to take four of his favorite things to school and he took YOUR t.v. remote that you use to home school your OTHER children? TOTALLY happened to me." (Not bc he loves watching tv... he loves pretending remotes control robots. We only have 30 other remotes that serve no purpose to me).

"Wait, you home school AND have kids in public school?? So I'm NOT the only psychotic crazy person in this world?? SOOO good to know!"

"Your one year old grabbed your personal little zipper pouch out of your purse in the middle of a church you were VISITING, ran from you, and tried to eat your tampons? In front of everyone?! Happens to me ALL the time!"

"So, you ACTUALLY tried to take a Sunday afternoon nap. In your house. With your kids THERE. You are SUCH a BRAVE SOUL! And your house didn't burn down? All they did was trash every SINGLE room in the matter of 30 minutes and turn your deep cleaned house into a deep cleaned memory? Oh sweetie. They were all still alive when you woke up. You have amazing children."

"You are seriously WORRIED about the kid bathroom smelling like a permanent TERD because no matter HOW many times you tell the boys to flush, they NEVER remember?? Just know, they'll take a bath later, flood the entire bathroom and you'll have to mop. At the end of the day, it'll smell like Pine saw. Oh come on. It's better than terd."

Maybe I need to write myself little cheer leader notes like I used to do for Starling when we were dating.

I can put one on my milk jug.

"Good morning!!! This represents the FIRST feeding!!! You only have to do this FOUR MORE TIMES TODAY!"

My dishwasher: "Fill her up sister! You know if you don't get all the dishes washed after breakfast, with 8 people eating, you won't have enough dishes for lunch! Keep up the good work!"

My dish rags: "I know your table and counters will only stay wiped down approximately 30 minutes until snack time, but won't that be a PERFECT 30 min. view? It's worth it! REALLY!"

My meal calendar: "You are right. The children are going to BEG to eat cereal or spagetti o's instead of this 45 minute prepped meal. But After you FORCE them to eat their vegetables and have successfully dealt with 6 tantrums, you will feel like SUCH. A. Good. MOM."

MY Pile of clean laundry: "I know the kids will throw all the folded clothes around the room later tonight when you THINK they are sleeping, but will really be playing some imaginative game, and then, put them all the dirty clothes hamper when you tell them to clean up their room tomorrow, but a tenth of the clothes WILL actually get WORN first. You go GIRL!"

I feel like my life is a rat's exercise wheel. And I'M THE RAT.

But I feel such joy when I successfully teach the kids something! I can at least feel like the KNOWLEDGE I bestow upon them lasts.

Like the other day. We saw a giant bird flying through the sky and all the children yelled, "Look! An EAGLE!!"

"That, my dears, is not an eagle. It's a buzzard. " Twenty min lesson on buzzards and eating road kill.

"Any questions?"

"And when it grows UP it will be an EAGLE?"

My poor pillow. I've about screamed a hole through it.

CAT-tastrophe

Well. This has been quite an interesting week.

Boeing has become obsessed with the toilet. Every 5 seconds he says, "Wan pee pee!"

He NEVER pees. He just enjoys running around commando and getting lifted ON to potty. OFF the potty. ON the potty. OFF the potty. As fun as this was for ME, I decided it could NOT go on. I went to my shed and drug out the little tot pot and, after convincing Brighton that he is TOO big to pee on the tiny potty, told Boeing to "wan pee pee" on THAT!

So NOW, instead of going TOOO the tot pot when he wants to play "go potty," he drags the toilet to ME and wants me to take his diaper off.

Its horrendous. That potty chair crossing over a tiled floor sounds like a scene out of Saving Private Ryan. Especially when I'm sleeping cozy in my bed at 6 a.m. and Boeing decides to take the pot on a test drive, racing it back and forth across my bathroom floor.

Luckily the morning this happened, after I realized we weren't under some missile attack, I was relieved. It was just Boeing running his potty through the pee he'd squeaked out OVER his diaper, his little fire hose still kinked between his diaper and pot-belly. It was a proud day. First tee-tee in the bathroom. Never mind that it didn't occur anywhere near the toilet.

Today, he decided he HAD to have his diaper and ALL clothing off. And he was going to rip his diaper off or die trying. I finally gave in, despite the fact I had COMPANY, and put him in his birthday suite. He scampered off to the bathroom. I excused myself, as politely as one can with a barking, nude one year old making war sounds in the bathroom.

He told me, very insistently that he wanted a bath.

"Why?" It was rhetorical. One year olds never have reasons why. They just have auto- repeat. "I wan bath. I wan bath. I wan bath."

Finally, frustrated with me, he pointed to his foot and said, "Gots ew. Yuck."

And it certainly did. On closer examination of my bathroom I saw that he'd terded right in front of his potty. 

I was met with a mental dilemma. 'Do I PRAISE him for pooping on the FLOOR?? He did go to the general area... I mean I wouldn't praise a DOG for pooping in FRONT of the door... But he's ONE and he pooped somewhere besides his diaper. After all it wasn't on the CARPET or anything...'

I finally gave up on thinking because I couldn't decide which one of my selves I agreed with.

AND moving on to other news:

I took my kids to the pound to play with the animals. I told them that we could NOT get any animals because they cost too much money. Plus, I was over animals. And we are moving in November.

THEN I let my six children loose in the Cat Asylum. It was therapeutic. All that purring and faint scent of flower flavored cat litter mixed with terd. I highly recommend it. My babies each sat calmly (except Boeing... he's only calm when he sleeps and then only mildly) petting the cats and kittens. And they were SOOO in love with the cats and so GOOOD with the cats AND there was a sign on the door that said ADOPTION FEE WAIVED for the cats...

And then, the firecracker, "Oh, Kitty... I just love you so much. I really wish I could bring you to my house and take such good care of you... I know you really wish that you could get adopted and you're so sad that you don't have a home..."

Brooklyn started. And then they were all telling their kitties all the things they would do with them IF ONLY they belonged to them.

It was a total lapse in judgment. A decision made completely on emotions.

"Okay babies. You can play with all the kitties and work together to find the two sweetest, CALMEST, kitties and we will adopt them."

Amazingly, there was no fighting or arguing over which two. They'd have taken any and all of them. 

Naturally, they picked the UGLIEST, scrawniest, long legged kitten in the whole pound. AND tried to pick ANOTHER hideous one. "No, no... let's get THAT one! He's so FUZZY and CUTE..." No... they wanted the one that looked like it'd been inbred one too many times.. 

Soooo I said, "Well ya'll picked that one so mommy gets to pick the other one."

No arguments. They were just in HEaVEN that they got TWO kitties.

Of course, we couldn't take them home that day.

 INSTANT panic on my end.

' Starling is going to murder me DEAD when he finds out I'm getting TWO CATS!!!'

'OMG- I'm going to go home and come to my senses and I won't want them by tomorrow!'

'And the kids! Oh yeah... I should actually be worrying about the kids...'

"KIDS! Guess what? The kitties are going to the doctor to get their baby makers cut off and we get to pick them up tomorrow! AFTER we go play at Kamper Park! But LISTEN!!! This is going to be a very SPECIAL surprise for Daddy. So NOONE can tell him until we bring the kitties home, okay??"

I felt nauseous the entire way home. And every time I looked at Starling. (I may be a FANTASTIC pranker, but I am an AWFUL liar). Starling brought me a coke float. I had to eat it in a different room. He asked how my day was. I had to go shower. RIGHT THEN.

Finally, when night came, Starling started rubbing my shoulders. I cracked like Humpty Dumpty. I would have started throwing up if I'd waited any longer. I divulged ALL my secrets. He was surprisingly calm. And completely silent. For a VERY long time. I reminded him that I give cats away ALL the time on Craig's List. Ones that don't even belong to me. ALWAYS giving away stray cats I find, or maybe the neighbors' cats; I can't be sure. I assured him, we'd find a great home for them in 4 months; I am just FOSTERING them. FOR THE CHILDREN. He rolled his eyes and shook his head and did what he always does. Accepted the fact that he married a crazy.

 The next day we went to pick them up. I took TWO card board boxes. Sturdy moving boxes.

The vet informed me that they were not "safe" enough boxes and in her professional opinion, I would have to buy two card board boxes from THEM that have HANDLES. $5 a box.

I MAY have caused a scene. I didn't mean to. I just said, "I can't use my boxes but I can use your boxes. In my professional opinion, they are CATS. Just CATS. They don't have to be strapped in a car seat. A box is a box. I'm not paying TEN DOLLARS for boxes just because they have HANDLES." She called in back up. So... it became a HUGE to- do because I wanted to transport my cats ILLEGALLY in an unprecedented way! A HANDLE-LESS card board BOX! The in-humaneness of it ALL!

"So you are telling me that you would rather KEEP the kittens and return them to the pound where they will be euthanized RATHER than let me take the kittens home in MY box instead of yours?"

"WELL. If that's the way you WANT it."

Another, more level headed lady chimed in, "No, we absolutely want the kittens to go home to your house and have a home. We just want them secure for your safety."

"AGAIN. We are STILL talking about CATS. Not lions or tigers. I think I'll be safe with a kitten."

"They have been medicated. They will not be themselves. They will be horribly aggressive."

Long story short, they GAVE me THEIR boxes and told me to MAIL them a check. I had EVERY intention of walking out the door, putting the kittens in MY boxes and leaving THEIR boxes on the front stoop as to avoid paying ten dollars for BOXES.

But when I got to the car, a $10 bill was just sitting there. As I drove down the road, I had a wave of conscious. I would not pay for the boxes. I would DONATE ten dollars for the cats because what the vets do for the pound is honorable and charitable. I sighed, turned around and gave them the $10.

I got home and let the kittens out of the boxes. They purred and climbed onto my lap. I BARELY ESCAPED WITH MY LIFE.

WEEELLL:::

The very NEXT day, I told Starling I needed to run to Wal Mart "real quick." I left all 6 kids with him and went NOT to Wal Mart.

I drove to my friend Stacey's house to pick up my "voo doo" oil, as Starling so lovingly refers to Dotera Oils. "Don't let your friends peer pressure into buying that voo doo oil! It's just a fad. I'm serious! I know how you get these little whims!"

Well. I got a "little whim" and ordered a couple oils that are supposed to help with mood balance and energy. Naturally, Starling did NOT need to know until after I decided it WORKS and I didn't waste $37 dollars.

I snuck over and got that, then went to the Dollar Store to see if they had that $1 bread that normally cost $3 at Wal Mart. They didn't. BUT I found ALL kinds of other goodies.

I FINALLY went to Wal Mart where I had loaded my buggy with 6 loaves of bread and a bag of cat food when a lady called me from Target to tell me she found my kitten.

Well of course I loaded up my bread and cat food and went and retrieved my kitten. THEN I had to call Starling to make sure the CUTE kitten was still at home. (The cute kitten turned out to be VERY whiney and attached to the absolutely PERFECT not so cute kitten and I was terrified they were together when they hitched a ride to Target). SURE enough. NO kitten at home.

I put Waggers (yes. THAT is the name the children agreed on) in the car where he sprawled out like a man after dinner, and retraced EVERY single place I'd been. No dead cat in the road. But I didn't FIND the cat alive, either. I had to go back to Stacey's to see if he'd jumped out there. AND of course I saw ALL my neighbors. COVER. BLOWN.

So I went home in complete depression that I'd lost the cute obnoxious kitten after only ONE day and the vet had taken the time to neuter him and give him his shots. But since he wasn't dead in the road I decided someone would find him and CALL me. My name and number is on his collar. But no one ever did.

And of course, when I showed up at home after GROCERY shopping without even getting MILK, Starling wanted to know WHAT took me so long. BUS-TED.

But I QUICKLY redirected the conversation to important matters.

'HOW will the poor children take it??'

Like kids that LOVED their cat.

"Oh well. I'll just have to play with this one, then. Can we PLEAAAASE play the Wii??"

I just keep thinking of the irony of the situation...

If vet lady sprung a hernia over me taking the cats home in unorthodox card board boxes what on EARTH would she think of me taking my cats through town UNDER my CAR??

Don't worry. I didn't ask her. I don't want to be responsible for a heart attack. 

And are mini pot belly pigs good house dogs? 

I keep being told "opinions" about certain "types" of children.

"Well, Wendi. Some kids are just BeYOND help."

"Some kids are just bad. They just come into the world that way and there ain't a dang thang you can do to change them."

OKAY EVERYONE! STORYTIME!!!

Let me tell you about a little girl.

She was born to good decent middle class parents. She had a two parent home where there was lots of love. She had loving grandparents and cousins and a very supportive church family.

Despite all of these lovely things, that little girl was a TYRANT for her parents. She threw food at people in restaurants.  She threw tantrums in public; LOOOONG tantrums. Tantrums that lasted for HOURS. In fact, she was so disruptive and ornery that her parents stopped taking her into public. When she would throw tantrums at night, for any given reason for not getting her way, her parents would literally take "shifts" with her to keep from physically abusing her. They tried time-outs, groundings, beatings, etc. The child was just born a very opinionated and intense female. She was stubborn, obstinate, and down right HARD HEADED.

Whew. Sounds like a kid you would DEFINITELY NOT want to raise, right? (Or you might be saying, "Crap. She's calling out my kid on her stupid blog"). You would especially want to steer clear of this insane child if she wasn't even your biological kid!

If I talked to some of these WISE and ALL KNOWING self-educated psychiatrists (not that I'm knocking self-education... I'm all about getting EDUCATED), so maybe just self-affirmed psychiatrists; they would tell you with NO hesitation that all that girl needed was a butt whooping and an exorcism.

Well, she definitely got some butt whoopings; I don't think her parents tried the exorcism...

Where is that kid today? Oh surely she is in jail or prostituting in some drug ring. Just an absolute menace to society. Probably growing pot plants under her neighbors porch and stealing from the church collection plate. Can't fix kids like that.

WARNING: The Mama Bear is about to come out in me.

Well, you blessedly intelligent people, THAT girl is actually doing JUST PEACHY, thanks very much.

Because that child is ME.

AND HERE IS MY THEORY ON CHILDREN and how you FIX them.

I am in constant search of how I can improve my parenting, namely for the learning of my children. I've decided that there are (many but I'll focus on) three important, even imperative lessons a child must learn for there to be any success or happiness in a child's future..

Those three things are #1: a loving relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.  #2: Good Work Ethic. #3: Agency

How did I derive at such an odd list? Well, through nights of contemplation, innumerable prayers, and trial and error. (AND just to prove wrong the people that daily PISS me off telling me MY business).

Before a child can have a healthy relationship with anyone regarding the feelings of love towards another, a child must first be loved. While it may be controversial amongst the impeding secular societal views becoming the accepted school of thought, I say without apology and with deep conviction that to truly know love for oneself, one must discover the unconditional love offered by a Father in Heaven and a Savior, Jesus Christ. No parent or guardian's love can replace that love. A parent's love, though most honorably given is often wavering or conditional, at least seemingly so from the viewpoint of a child.  Parental mistakes will be made as parents are human. But to truly understand the love offered by a Father that knows you better than you (or your parents) know you, is inspirational. Knowing that no matter where you find yourself physically or emotionally, you can hit your knees in prayer, is essential for emotional security. Especially those children that haven't always had the most dependable adults in their lives. No matter what humans have failed them in the past, children need to know that there is a constant, unchanging, forgiving, loving, and encouraging Father in Heaven that is constantly watchful. A Father that LISTENS, that ANSWERS prayers, that actually DOES know the ENTIRE story. (Even though he/she has turned into a teenager and that seems impossible).

 I attribute all behavioral and emotional improvements of my children and MYSELF on nightly scripture study centered around this very basic, infinite truth. "I am a Child of God." It is evident in the very essence that surrounds our family as we discuss our daily struggles and improvements. While change is most noticeable in my foster children, because such a drastic change can be seen, it is empowering to all of us. We never, no matter how old or content we become, lose the need to feel our Father and Savior's love for us, nor do we lose the need for Christ's atonement in our lives. The sooner kids experience the feelings of the Holy Ghost, the better for ALL involved.  (I can attest to that from a child's standpoint and second that notion from a parent's standpoint).

Secondly, children of all ages need to be taught good work ethic. They need and desire high expectations to be set upon them. Without expectations, what level of success will they ever reach? None. They will always stay well within their own comfort zone. If they are required and encouraged to do tasks taxing to their natural ability, they  will likely grow and find great joy and inner confidence in their achievements.

At what age do you start giving children expectations? IMMEDIATELY. My one year old is expected to help clean up toys. Can I send him to his room to clean it? Of course not. But I can go to his room and say, "Okay. Time to put all of our cars back into the basket!" And I clap and give high fives. My one year old now knows the drill and he can do it. Now that "I know he can do it" it is an EXPECTATION. Saying please and thank you. Expectations.

When I envision my household in a perfect state, I imagine it neat and tidy. And that's the only place my perfectly clean house exists. In my imagination. I have 6 kids under age 7. (To be exact a 7,6,5,4,3,and 1 year old). How neat and tidy do you think my house is? Well, it has the possibility and likelihood of being a revolting  disaster  100% of the time.  But thanks to my dedication of teaching my children about their Savior and providing them opportunities to develop good work ethic, my house gets completely cleaned at least once a day. (Except Sundays. Which is why no one is EVER invited to my house on Monday morning. It looks, feels, and smells like a high school boys' gym locker). And even though the clean house is a fleeting accomplishment, it is an accomplishment for which I take great pride. Mostly because I see the success and self esteem emanating from my children when they are given a difficult task, persevere to the end, and accomplish it. No matter the agony and drudgery of the task, when my children complete the job  and get Mom's seal of approval, there are beaming eyes and high held heads. 

 Young children appreciate consistent variety. Confused?

I have created a chore chart. This chore chart holds ten jobs for which five children are to accomplish daily. (My 1 year old hasn't quite made the chart). The children know that after breakfast they will be assigned two chores. But, to keep away the monotony and to give them opportunities to learn various aspects of cleaning, chores are rotated daily.

After breakfast I announce the chores. All children from age 3 yrs to 7 yrs set off to complete their missions.

When we first implemented this regiment of daily chores, you can imagine the balk of dismay from all 5 of my precious darlings. Each task was outrageously too difficult and each child was certain he could never accomplish the Mount Everest I'd asked him to climb.

Evoking feelings of dread and insecurity are never helpful in raising a responsible child. In fact, throwing a child into a task where expectations are unclear does far more harm than good.

So the first full week of chore implementation, I gave cleaning training to all the children. We learned the proper way to tidy a bedroom and make a bed. As the children became confident in those tasks we added new lessons. We learned how to clean a toilet, (Yes. EVEN my 3 year old), how to clean a bath tub, how to sweep, and how to mop. I taught them how to rinse dishes, how to wipe counters, and how to dust. So basically, my job as a mother, is to teach my children everything I know, and MORE. (When in doubt I Google about).

There is zero excuse for ignorance in today's society. If you don't know how to do something, it is one YouTube video away. (Seriously. I've awarded my husband a Doctorate in YouTube education and am speedily working to get mine). ..

( Yes, Starling. I know you are wondering why I cook like crap if recipes and YouTube videos are a "click away." I plead the - I HATE cooking so much IT is even PAINFUL to WATCH- card. BUT do not excuse myself, merely choose cooking as my one acceptable FAIL).

Do the children do each job perfectly? Not at first. Do they clean fast? No. Absolutely not. (It takes ten times as long as it would take me.

BUT. With gentle prompting from a cheer leading mom, by the time I say, "Yay! You did a fantastic job and you are DONE!" the job is pretty dang near perfect. And I ALWAYS have them examine their work and relish in their accomplishment.

You want to talk about a child's entire demeanor changing? Help them discover work ethic. My boys especially, have AMAZED me with how much pride they now take in their tasks. When they first came to my house it was, "I can't." "I don't know how." "That's too hard." "That'll take too long."

Now they are empowered. And the great thing about accomplishments are they are permanent reminders of success. When one of my babies say, "Oh, I can't do that." I gently and enthusiastically remind them, "REMEMBER when you said you could NOT clean your ENTIRE room by yourself? You thought it was WAAAY too hard? What happened when you tried?"

A grin crawls across the face of my little one and he'll say, "I did it! And I got it REEEEAL clean!!"

The third thing kids must be given is agency to choose. That's right. Let your children know from a young age that they ALWAYS have a choice to do or not to do. AND let them know that a consequence will ALWAYS be associated with choice.

"You can choose to give the toy back nicely and say you are sorry OR you can choose to sit in time out for 5 minutes. I want you to think about what choice you want to make. I'm going to count to three and I'll know what decision you have made. One... two..."

And sometimes they make the WRONG choice at which time kids get to experience the BAD consequence. It's good for them.

Children NEED to know that they are responsible for their actions. They are not ACTED upon.

"But he MADE me MAD!"

"HE STARTED IT!"

"Okay. Someone made a poor choice. He will have to suffer the BAD consequence. But he can't MAKE you hit them, or MAKE you scream in his face. That is YOUR choice."

I honestly, and whole heartedly believe that when implemented consistently and lovingly THESE things will CHANGE a child. It is not a parent's job to FORCE and bark at children to behave and BE a certain way. It is a parent's responsibility to TEACH a child correct principles and mirror Christ-like attributes so that a child will CHOOSE to behave and BE the Child of God he or she is meant to be (EVEN when Mom or Dad isn't around). That is the ONLY way a child will reach his or her full potential.

People don't change people. Christ changes people.

So crazy judgmental people, do me a favor and PRAY for me instead of discouraging me.

And all the good hearted parents and foster parents out there, GIVE yourself a BREAK! If your child is acting berserk-o... STICK to the basics and let GOD do the rest. Your child has to CHOOSE to change and all you can do is mirror correct behaviors and LOVE LOVE LOVE!!! I've yet to have a child not improve.

Maybe I relate to foster kids, kids with maladaptive behaviors, etc. so well because I know how I WAS, and I know how far God brought me when I ASKED Him to. Am I CURED of all my struggles and trials. HECK NO! If my mood swings were physically visible, I could make some dang good money on the ROLLIN-IST coaster in the big USA.  I will always battle with my physical and mental ailments. Yeah? Don't we all?

So do I think any kid is BEYOND hope? Nope. A child (and that goes for the 1 to 99 year olds) can change if he CHOOSES to do so. And I believe with a solid foundation of Christ's love, good work ethic, and agency WE will be well on our way.

Trapped. An all new LOW.

Asking a complete stranger to help you can be difficult. It's always a little intimidating depending on the direness of the situation. When you have to WAVE down a fellow EXCERCISER at the GYM, because you have somehow managed to TRAP yourself on the Leg CURL machine, there are NO WORDS.

I can NOT be the only one who has done that. PLEASE,( if I am), let me believe someone else has slammed the leg pad over their lap and pressed it down nice and tight so their butt wouldn't lift as they curled their legs. And WOOPS, realized their legs were a TAD bit too fat to have pressed it ALL the way to the #1 clicker and NO amount of YANKING the little peg thingy on the side would RELEASE them.

Ugh.. I was already having issues before I even WENT to the gym. You SEEEE- when I stopped breastfeeding Boeing on command from my doctor because I was 108 pounds (which is totally HOT if you are into skeletons), my butt doubled in size and my boobs went into hiding. All the clothing hanging in my closet are for stick figures with huge breasts, easily accessible for a nursing baby. OH why haven't I gone SHOPPING for new clothes? WITH all that FREE time I have with SIX kids? I know. I'm a slacker.

Well I haven't bought ONE single new item of clothing for myself in.... I honestly can't remember. Since before I stopped nursing. For sure.

Anyway- to DESTINATION "where I am GOING" with this. I put on my normal shorts and t-shirt. (And padded bra, because the best way to make your stomach look smaller is to have boobs BIGGER than your stomach. Without the padded bra, I think mine are about tied). And I left for the gym. I noticed IMMEDIATELY on my walk from vehicle to gym doors that my shorts had shrunk about two sizes. (Yeah. THAT's what happened. WINK WINK..). And so I was already having to tug at my forever riding up shorts. I passed the mirrors on my way to the machines and did a double take at the little dents in the back of my legs under my butt. WHEN did THOSE things get there?? AND how do I make them LEAVE??

Even though I hadn't worked out my arms in a while, I decided noodle arms could string along for another day. I wanted whatever nasty on my legs to DISSIPATE. So I set off to commit leg suicide. I worked those suckers hard. I even broke a sweat. All was good until I got on that stupid leg curl machine.

A lot of interesting thoughts went through my head as I sat, literally SQUISHED into the machine.

#1- OUCH! Too tight! Toooo TIGHT!

#2- WHY is this dang thing NOT releasing?!? People are starting to stare!

#3- I didn't know my legs expanded so far out when the fat is all squished down like that.

#4- Oh my. I'm trapped! I'm really trapped!!!

#5- Don't panic. You aren't in imminent danger- (interruption of self thought)- EXCEPT losing BOTH legs for lack of BLOOD FLOWWW!

#6- MAKE eye contact with SOMEBODY!!

#7- WHY won't anyone LOOK AT ME! STOP looking away people! You keep glancing! Don't you see the TERROR in my EYES!!

#8- JUST START SCREAMING!

I tried to shimmy my way out of the lap band, but let's face it. My legs were already turning white. There was no escaping. I finally caught some dude's eye and started waving at him frantically. He of course, hurriedly looked away.

"Hey! Um, Mister!"

He glanced up and then TURNED his back on me.

"Excuse me! Can you HELP me... I'm STUCK!"

NOT a proud moment for me. Rather a low point amongst all points, I'd say.

"I'm being serious, Mister Sir. I'm trapped! PLEASE. Can you just get this thing OFF me?"

I guess he decided that I wasn't going to stop pleading until he actually freed me, so he trotted over with a definite expression of, "please. For all genetic purposes. Do NOT let this woman procreate."

(HA. Jokes on him).

It took him SEVERAL tries and he had to FURTHER squish my legs to finally pull the pin out enough that I could climb out. It was fine, though. It didn't hurt. My legs had already fallen completely numb.

He was GONE before I could even thank him. Not that I minded. One doesn't really want to stare into the eyes of judgment when she's banging the blood flow back into her legs.

I hadn't done my squats yet, but for some reason I felt like I had put myself through enough pain for one day.

 

To Foster/Adopt... THAT is the question...

I was given pamphlets from DHS to hand out to my friends. Quite frankly, I think the pamphlet is utterly terrifying. It basically lists all the worst case scenarios and solidifies every stereotypical horror belief potential parents face. SOOO... meet MY FOSTER/ADOPTION pamplet!

SINGLE women! You can be a foster/adoptive parent! If you work outside the home, DHS helps with childcare costs.

Grandmas and Grandpas! YOU can be a foster/adoptive parents! People always tell me, "I would have LOVED to do that. Now I'm probably too old, huh?" NO. Find a new excuse.

IMPERFECT people! YOU can be foster/adoptive parents. Oh my gosh! You have BAD days where you are stressed and fail to be super mom or dad?? You lock yourself in the bathroom and scream into your hair dryer? You hide in your closet to escape your OWN children and engage in silent chanting. You randomly suffer from bouts of hormone imbalance and/or psycho-ness. Welcome. to. the. club. (If you AREN'T doing this- you really aren't stretching yourself enough).

FACT: Foster families are OVERFLOWING with children. To the point that many children are being placed in shelters and institutions because there is no family to take them. And I thought this was only teens (which is bad enough) but even very young children are growing up without family environments.

FACT: Some of the kids are nuts! And some kids will think YOU'RE nuts! Your family will NOT be suited for them or them for you. (And if this occurs; NOT a problem. Social workers will find a family more suitable for them and children more suitable for you).

FACT: Some children will come into your home and you'll wonder how you ever lived without them. (And for the record, that's been the majority of my experience). And you'll never want to let them go. Lucky for you some will become adoptable and because you are the foster parent, you get first option to adopt if no family placements can be made. And sometimes you won't get to adopt them. This has happened to me more than once. BUT God has a plan for the children and for each of US. And I have faith that God's will be done.

TERRIFYING RUMOR: DHS places WHOEVER the heck they want to in your home and you DEAL with it.

FACT: Every time a child comes into custody, the social worker can NOT leave his/her office until they have a place for that child to sleep that night. The SW sits at the computer for HOURS and starts calling foster parents. If you receive a call, you may accept the placement or refuse. Simple as that. I highly recommend a "Let me talk to my husband and I'll call you right back." At which point your husband and you kneel down and PRAY to know if the child/children should come to your home or not. (Once God says okay- I'm all in. And I've never been lead astray).

RUMOR: You HAVE to be a foster parent to adopt. Not always. Though you go through almost the same training, you can sometimes get a lawyer and bypass DHS and NOT have to foster. BUT, if you are a licensed foster parent JUST in case you MIGHT want to adopt at some point in your life... your life will be TEN TIMES easier when you decide to adopt. (It can take MONTHS and MONTHS to get licensed or to get approved for adoption). So don't procrastinate! Get licensed and say NO to all calls until you are ready to say YES!

Because I only have 3 foster babies right now; and I am OVER my limit for taking in more, I feel a VOID: I could be doing MORE! So, because several people have been messaging me about adoption and/or foster care... I've decided to give you a random sample of some of the kids that are in US states' custody (and these kids can be adopted by anyone in the US unless specifically stated otherwise).

Many states, MS included, do not participate in the "Heart Gallery." So it is difficult to know, if you are not currently licensed, who NEEDS you. BUT, there are endless children coming in everyday. I get calls for newborn babies right out of the hospital all the way to 18 year olds. I obviously can't take every child into my home. THAT's where I HOPE you will come in.

MY TESTIMONIAL:

I live by a simple, but firm belief. "To Whom Much is Given, Much is Required."  And most of us are SO blessed. When you look at your family, ask yourself- "What could our family offer to an orphaned or homeless child?" And God will fill your head with BOO-KOO-DOLLS of things.

It is my hope to one day give a child a forever home. As soon as God gives me a yes. (Because I kind of beg Him for almost every child He sends to my home). But until then, I refuse to be discouraged. I have thought, "WHY do I foster? Especially if the child ends up going to live with someone I don't approve of or back into the SAME situation she/he just came out of?" I got my answer one night when it was time for scriptures and prayers and my foster baby, only in my home for three days asked to say the prayer. He prayed his little heart out. I realized that if the ONLY thing I do while a child is in my home is help him/her realize he/she is a Child of God and is LOVED and SPECIAL and can PRAY anytime, anywhere, then my labors are not in vain. Every child I've been blessed to foster has grown leaps and bounds in behavior, in learning, in happiness. And most importantly in understanding the lifeline of prayer.

I have been plagued with moments of complete self doubt, but God magnifies those willing to serve. It's a faith thing. It's not always easy, and it's not always fun, but it has ALWAYS been worth it. ALWAYS.

Lets meet some KIDS!

There are TEENS! LOTS of teens! And guess what?! They are NOT all deranged juvenile delinquents. There are some amazing teens that would make amazing sons and daughters! 

All of these children have BEAUTIFUL pictures that you can view at the website listed here:

http://adoptuskids.org/meet-the-children/state-photolists

(For child's safety, and my lack of hacking skills, I canNOT get the little darling's pictures to SHOW up on my blog! Blocked content).

MEET Romelle

PRINT CLOSE

AZ01564 (THIS is his state and case number)

Photo Updated:

MAKE INQUIRY

Romelle - Male, age 15

About Romelle

Romelle is a bright energetic boy with a charismatic sense of humor. He has a great smile and big brown eyes. Romelle does very well in school and is very proud of receiving the Principal’s award for getting straight A’s for the entire school year. When asked who his favorite teacher is, he names all of his teachers and cannot determine which teacher is his favorite. Two of his best friends are gold fish named Mr. and Mrs. Bubbles. When Romelle gets older he would like to be a veterinarian or serve his country in the military.
Romelle is in need of a permanent adoptive home that will provide flexibility and consistency. He would like a family with several family pets. Romelle would also like a family that will continue to support contact with his older brother. 

DIRECT LINK: http://www.adoptuskids.org/_app/child/ChildViewNoBanner.aspx?id=34376&sid=17

MEET Andrew

AZ01673

MAKE INQUIRY

Andrew - Male, age 17

About Andrew

Andrew "Andy" is a very active and athletic young man. He is able to take advice from authority figures and desires to improve his character. He enjoys riding bikes, working outside, helping care for animals, and playing video games. Andy recently asked his foster parents for a new pair of cowboy boots so that he could dress like a ranch hand. 

Andy's favorite subjects in school include; science and social studies. When Andy was asked what the perfect family would look like, Andy reported, "a family with a mom and dad, a nice home with his own bedroom, and to be able to visit with his siblings." Andy has three siblings who are very important to him so it is necessary to ensure that contact between them is maintained.

Andy has been able to make some significant bonds with his current foster family. Andy needs structure and consistency to allow him to reach his full potential. Andy would like to be in a home that, "allows him to have fun, likes to go places, and spends a lot of time outdoors." Could you be the family that Andy is looking for?

MEET Kanin

PRINT CLOSE

AZ01583

PhotoUpdated:

04/26/12

MAKE INQUIRY

Kanin - Male, age 14

About Kanin

A few words to describe Kanin are energetic, comedic, and an animal lover. When you first meet Kanin you will quickly see his bubbly personality come out. Kanin is quite a comedian and loves telling jokes of all sorts. 

Kanin is an avid movie-goer and Star Wars, Batman, and Spiderman are just a few of his favorites. Kanin will be quick to quiz you on his favorite Star Wars characters and bring out his action figures. He has every one, from Luke Skywalker to Princess Leia. Kanin also enjoys playing video games. When he takes a break from his games and movies, Kanin enjoys sitting down and drawing his favorite characters. 

Kanin is a very intelligent young man. Kanin reports that his favorite classes are science and weight lifting. He also loves learning about Greek Mythology. 

I'm having a really hard time just picking a FEW! I may have to do more than ONE of these. I'm only looking at Arizona's website! Forty-nine more to go...

Here is a cutie from Alabama! Direct link: http://www.heartgalleryalabama.com/children/children_details.php?id=741

LaRaymaun 6 yrs Photographed by Admoni Photography LaRaymaun,born April 2008, is a very energetic and loveable child. He enjoys playing with his trucks and riding his bike. He also enjoys drawing and coloring. His favorite subject is Math. The numbers and dynamics of Math seem to capture his attention. He is also eager to learn. He will usually ask questions when he lacks understanding. There have been few occasions that he has gotten into trouble with other kids at school. LaRaymaun has a hearty appetite and is not a picky eater. He is usually shy when he first meets someone but will warm up and talk to them. He enjoys attention and positive feedback. He is currently adjusting to being in "real school." He is learning more structure as compared to the past two years in day care and has had some difficulty in the transition. LaRaymaun is tenacious and has really good coping skills. He has faced many losses at an early age but continues to strive and thrive. He is a joy to those he comes in contact with.

There are SIBLING groups! (And they are so stinkin' CUTE!!) Sometimes sibling groups can be broken up and sometimes they must stay together.

https://dhs.arkansas.gov/dcfs/heartgallery/results1.asp

Whatever state YOU are IN, there are KIDS that need to be adopted!! (And if you can't find them- pick another STATE! Or ask me. I'll find out for you)! There are also girls! I just, apparently, overloaded this blog with boys. I challenge you, if you have felt ANY tugging on your heart strings to pray to see if you may be underutilized right now in your life. You may have the world to offer a child and vice-versa.

I know Fostering and Adoption isn't for everyone. But for SOMEONE out there, it IS and you need a little push to get started! I'm at your service! (Even though I'll be learning alongside you).

Good luck with the battle of the conscious vs the comfortable! You know which side I'll be cheering for!

The Snake Encounter

Six kids. Five doors in my house leading to the outside. I often feel like I am trying to collect sand in a sifter. 

No matter HOW many times I collect them, one or two of them is ALWAYS slipping through the cracks. And, as you can imagine, it's difficult to accomplish more than a headache with all that riga-maroe.

However, nothing is impossible! I slept in Brookie's bed last night, since I came home from the gym at 11 p.m. and my bed was covered in a thick layer of KID.

I didn't wake up ALL night! It was TERRIFIC! I was woken up before the rooster had a chance to croak, but that's okay. I decided I would start the day out with a delicious breakfast.

I grabbed a loaf of bread. Never been opened. (I bought 6 loafs yesterday; HERE is why). I opened the loaf, used the ENTIRE loaf to make French Toast, scrambled a dozen eggs (and about two dozen nerves. Have you EVER attempted cooking with SIX starving children TOUCHING you at the same time?!?!?)

I FED the little piranhas. Not a MORSEL of toast left. NOT a dab of syrup or egg. They licked their plates clean. No I'm serious. I had to tell them to stop licking their plates because it was getting syrup in their hair.

Being a stay at home mom is very similar to coaching a foot ball team. You have to get those kids into shape, get them moving, make them run plays for you, ALL the while keeping them motivated. I drew out my game plan on the dry erase board in the kitchen.

"Huddle UP TEAM JOHNSON!!"

I did the quick count to six that I seem to being doing every 6 seconds to ensure all my children were indeed still INSIDE the house.

"'Brooklyn, dishes! Jimmy & Isaiah cabinets! Peyton and Bry Bathroom duty! Boeing? Balance on your head just like you are doing! WHEN everything is DONE, we make BROWNIES loaded with M&M's!!"

"YAAAAY!!!!!!!" (Total motivation).

"BREAK!"

Brooklyn ran up our water bill about $25. I mean she washed dishes.

The oldest boys finished the cabinets and I put them to dusting the living room. (Sooo only the bottom half of my house is dusted...).

Brighton and Peyton "cleaned" the tub. Which meant I put lemon scented pine saw on their rags and they played in the tub and bathroom. It didn't get all that clean but my bathroom smells better than it has in months.  

I vacuumed, did laundry, loaded the dishwasher with the rinsed dishes, etc.

During this fantastic escapade of keeping the children busy doing something that wasn't COUNTER PRODUCTIVE while I cleaned, I happened to look through the glass in my back door. And maybe shriek. And maybe do the jitter dance while dragging Starling to the window.

A nice sized SNAKE was slithering in the VERY spot I needed to get. It was AT LEAST three feet and those are words from STARLING's mouth. I thought he was five foot.

Luckily for me, well- really for the SNAKE, I JUST went on a home school field trip on Thursday. ON this trip to USM's Biological Sciences Learning Center, I learned ALL about MS native snakes. The venomous and non venomous.  WELL, one of the snakes we got to look at was a black speckled king snake.

"OH MY GOSH! ITS SO BIIIIG! It's so LOOONG! AHHH! Its MOVING!!!"

I yodeled for all of my children to come see. For the longest time I was lifting the kids UP to see through the glass at the top of the door. Then, in a stroke of GENIUS, I just OPENED the door.

"NOOOOOOO!!!" exploded Brooklyn as if I had just invited the snake to gobble up every last one of her family members.

Teaching moment. Teaching moment. I tried to act as calm as the herpetologist lady that showed us all the reptiles on our field trip. But let's face it. Herp lady HOLDS snakes and lets them crawl around on her bare skin without a) Peeing her pants. I on the other hand? AM TERRIFIED of snakes.

BUT, it was obviously a king snake. Its head wasn't triangle. And it seemed friendly enough. Which is why I was FREAKING out. The herp lady said, "Snakes are MORE scared of you than you are of it."

The snake did NOT look very scared. IN FACT, it was the OPPOSITE of scared. It didn't RUN. It didn't HIDE. With my live audience, I went into a full spell of acting.

"Does EVERYONE remember what kind of SNAKE this is? Some of you were brave (or crazy) enough to PET him on the field trip!"

"It's a KING SNAKE!" I told my VERY unresponsive, petrified audience.

"That's not a king snake." Starling said from behind us.

"Yes it is. I just saw it on Thursday."

"This is a GOOD snake!" I told the children in a sing song voice.

The snake, who was a full two steps below us and about four feet away from us gave a sniff with its forked tongue. I guess he liked my perfume (or un-showered body odor) and slithered to take a closer look.

An eruption of screaming. Some of it may have come from me; I'm not sure.

"Its non venomous! That means when it bites you, it'll hurt and make you bleed profusely, however, you will not die!"

"Ah.. it is a king snake. A speckled king snake." Apparently Starling believes the internet more than his WIFE.

It slithered to the bottom of the steps.

"AHHHHH!" High step. High step. 

"Who would like to pet the snake?"

"NOOOOOOOO, MOMMY! DON'T TOUCH IT!!!" Brooklyn was hyperventilating and holding Boeing in a death grip, pleading with as much desperation as when she begged me to wash the cleaner off Bry's hands so he wouldn't turn into a toad. (I may lie my children into submission. I'm a horrible person, I know). 

"Catch it Mommy! So we can pet it!" said the boys. (Not Brighton of course. He wouldn't even touch the SHEDDED skin that the science lady showed us).

"Catch it?" gulp. Well, the science lady made it seem so easy. She just scooped it right up.

"Hmmm... I don't know..."

About this time, the snake slithered UP the step and right across my foot!  I knocked the kids down like bowling pins, trying to escape as the snake came up INTO the house!

Brooklyn was barely making it from her perch on top of the couch. She looked like one of those fish out of the water with bulging eyes and wordless gasps. She was gurgling something along the lines of, "In... our... house...we're all... going to die...."

The boys were bouncing around like popcorn in the microwave and I was high stepping with a towel in my hand trying to catch the snake while Starling took a moment to take some footage on his cell phone.

I tried to resume my acting and catch the snake with honor and dignity. But the blamman thing MOVED every time I got near it. And it didn't seem to care in the SLIGHTEST that I was screaming like an un-oiled set of brakes. It just moseyed along, taking its time, checking me out.

For a second I thought it might be a friendly snake.

So, since Starling was videoing, and I was trying to calm down the children and demonstrate exactly how harmless the snake really was, I lifted my bare finger. I crouched down low. And.. I touched its tail.  

That thing whirled around so fast I almost bumped my head on the ceiling. Whew wee what a thrill! My heart jumped completely out my chest and my knees slammed together so hard, I think I chipped a cap. The snake decided it would go back outside. When the boys brought me some toy clampers, the snake decided I wasn't so fun to play with after all. I was trying to pick the snake up with the clampers but every time the snake moved, I screamed. I don't know WHY! It's a harmless rat eating snake! It's so strange! A doctor whacks your knee, your leg kicks out. A snake moves, you pee a little. Basic reflexes.

I was so relieved when the snake slithered under our slab! Besides the fact that there is space for a snake to slither under our slab. (We haven't started the remodel of the OUTSIDE of this house. ugh... a lot to do in such a short amount of time...).

But. I feel so EXCITED! For the first time IN MY LIFE, I saw a snake withOUT bursting into tears! AND I didn't have Starling shoot it or beat it to death with a hoe! And I didn't have to lay down for two days to recuperate from my "near death" experience. What liberation! I touched a frickin' WILD SNAKE!!! Probably shouldn't have done that. Not the brightest brainiac idea I've ever had. I keep feeling that creepy sensation on my finger and have to keep washing my hands. I'll definitely have nightmares. And I may have screamed and bolted halfway across the yard when I saw my water hose near my foot. Baby Steps. I named the snake "Dave." It seems less menacing that way.

And I think I have FINALLY gotten it through 5 little boys and one little girls thick HEADS why they HAVE to keep the DOORS CLOSED. (Escaping cold air- didn't work, but snakes coming in? Gets em' every time)!