Today was Bob's 36th birthday! We had a nice little party for him last night then he went with his buddies and shot clay pigeons today. I hope you had a great day! Love you!
His cake...wasn't he cute??
Bob having fun!
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Practice Makes...Perfect?
This weekend we watched my cousin's daughter for a couple days. She stayed with us so we could get "practice" for when we get a kid. You know, it was almost effortless with her. We could only be so lucky to have a kid as easy going as she was! She went to bed around midnight and woke up at 6:30. I put her in bed with me, and she slept until 10:30, until I had to wake her up! What a great baby! Oh, her name is Emma and she is 18 months old. Here is a picture of her! How cute is she?!
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Room Pictures
So this is what we have been working on lately. No, we don't have a baby already, we just want to be prepared so we're not scrambling at the last minute. If you can't make out what is on the bedding, they are bees! I love them!
Thanks to everyone who helped with this project! We can't thank you enough!!
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Duct Tape and Baling Wire
I did not write the following post. I found it on another blog, but it was so powerful, that I had to share it.
**********************************
Duct Tape and Baling Wire
It all began innocently enough, my decision to become a foster parent. I have no wonderful, earth-shattering reason why I decided this was what I was going to do. No powerful sermon was preached about it the previous Sunday. There was no profound moment. I just woke up and knew it.
I called Terri Yu, of Lincoln County DHS, and thus the roller coaster, known as "being a foster parent" began. I began my classes, and with each class, I was convinced this was something I was meant to do. Through rose coloured glasses, I saw myself as Wonder Woman saving the world from imminent evils. Keep in mind that at this time, my heart was securely intact and as good as new.
My very first placement was a dream come true. I picked up a beautiful newborn baby boy from the hospital and brought him home with me. That dream turned into a nightmare the very next night when I picked up his four-year-old brother. I am pretty sure he was my own personal war on terrorism. This was a child who wanted to grow up to shoot windows out of cop cars. He did not want to become a fire fighter, a pilot, a cowboy...he wanted to shoot windows out of cop cars. My heart sank, and reality started seeping in.
I was not dealing with innocent children who were thankful you rode in and rescued them. I was dealing with broken children... even the newborn, who did not ask to have drug withdrawals, but that was the life his mother chose for him. I was dealing with four year olds, who should be playing with cars and building forts, but instead they could out cuss a sailor, acted out violently, and knew what "weed" was. I thought that the 4 year old was beyond help. With consistent structure, firm guidance, and love, however, I was beginning to see his potential when he left. I'll never forget his last words, "Shawn, I'll very miss you so much." It was then I noticed my heart had little cracks in it.
I, in my innocence, thought I would be teaching them, but rather they taught me. They taught me that not everyone lives a sheltered life where they are loved and provided for. They taught me food was not something expected to be on the table when you were hungry, but food was a blessing to receive. They taught me that not everyone thinks the world revolves around babies, but rather that babies can be left strapped in car seats for hours upon hours until that beautiful little girl has a permanent head tilt and crooked jaw...all because she was in the way of mommy's partying. My heart broke.
I somehow managed to patch it up with a little bit of duct tape and gathered myself together and answered the phone once more for one more baby.
I learned that parents do not show up for visits and/or court dates to get their children back, much less PTA events, recitals, and music programs. I have learned that babies at eleven months old have already learned that life is not fair and they can and will give up on life. I had thought that at eleven months old your only thought was "what can I get into today?" Unfortunately, for some eleven-month-old babies, their thoughts are more alongthe lines of "I saw daddy hit mommy. Cops took me away, and I am now in a shelter where there are 23 other babies my age. There is nobody to hold me or love me. I cannot deal with this any longer." I've learned that politics are more important than a four-month-olds wellbeing. I have learned that someone in the DA's office can work deals under the table unbeknownst to DHS. I learned that politics in the system did not care that Mom and Dad could not stay clean. They did not care that Mom had previously lost two children to adoption because she could not change her life. They did not care that Mom could not trouble herself to come to court or come to visits except sporadically. Because a child is ONLY property and has no rights, they sent him home. They never gave Mom a chance to clean up and to be the appropriate Mom a baby with health issues needed. Knowing that he was leaving to go home to unsafe conditions, this time, my heart shattered. Duct tape was not enough to mend it. With a bit of baling wire and lots of duct tape and patches, I put it together the best Icould and questioned my decision to become a foster parent.
In the midst of my grief and reconsidering my decision, the phone rang. Terri said "Shadawn, there is an 11 month old in the shelter. He has given up. He is no longer interacting with staff nor responding, and he has shut down. Can you take him?" When I picked up that beautiful brown eyed baby boy and looked into his eyes, what I saw broke my heart. Instead of the innocent happiness of a child, I saw a long black tunnel of despair and hopelessness. Again, my heart broke. I would rock him to sleep each night, kiss him on the forehead, and put him in his bed while my heart broke knowing his story. I brought out the duct tape and baling wire once more.
No longer is my heart in the perfect condition it once was. It has now been broken and repaired more times than I can count. Whereas it used to gleam, it is held together by duct tape and baling wire. More tears than I can count have been shed. I have been asked by many "How do you do this? Don't you get attached and get your heart broken? How do you keep doing this?" I look at the picture of the 11 month old (now 18 months). I look at his eyes in the pictures I picked up yesterday, and where there once was despair and hopelessness, there is now mischief and happiness. Instead of lying there listlessly and not responding, there is a little boy who loves to say "hut-hut" and then tackle mommy.
I do not do this for myself. I do not get my heart broken repeatedly because I enjoy it. I do it because of all my past, present, and future babies. I do it because they need to go to bed at night hearing "I love you". Is it easy? Not only no, but heck no. But every child, 0-18 years old, needs to know what it is like to not have to worry about if they will be fed or not. Even if it is just a few months, they know what it is like to be safe and sound. My heart is not near as important as they are. It will recover; that child may not.
It all began innocently enough, my decision to become a foster parent. I have no wonderful, earth-shattering reason why I decided this was what I was going to do. No powerful sermon was preached about it the previous Sunday. There was no profound moment. I just woke up and knew it.
I called Terri Yu, of Lincoln County DHS, and thus the roller coaster, known as "being a foster parent" began. I began my classes, and with each class, I was convinced this was something I was meant to do. Through rose coloured glasses, I saw myself as Wonder Woman saving the world from imminent evils. Keep in mind that at this time, my heart was securely intact and as good as new.
My very first placement was a dream come true. I picked up a beautiful newborn baby boy from the hospital and brought him home with me. That dream turned into a nightmare the very next night when I picked up his four-year-old brother. I am pretty sure he was my own personal war on terrorism. This was a child who wanted to grow up to shoot windows out of cop cars. He did not want to become a fire fighter, a pilot, a cowboy...he wanted to shoot windows out of cop cars. My heart sank, and reality started seeping in.
I was not dealing with innocent children who were thankful you rode in and rescued them. I was dealing with broken children... even the newborn, who did not ask to have drug withdrawals, but that was the life his mother chose for him. I was dealing with four year olds, who should be playing with cars and building forts, but instead they could out cuss a sailor, acted out violently, and knew what "weed" was. I thought that the 4 year old was beyond help. With consistent structure, firm guidance, and love, however, I was beginning to see his potential when he left. I'll never forget his last words, "Shawn, I'll very miss you so much." It was then I noticed my heart had little cracks in it.
I, in my innocence, thought I would be teaching them, but rather they taught me. They taught me that not everyone lives a sheltered life where they are loved and provided for. They taught me food was not something expected to be on the table when you were hungry, but food was a blessing to receive. They taught me that not everyone thinks the world revolves around babies, but rather that babies can be left strapped in car seats for hours upon hours until that beautiful little girl has a permanent head tilt and crooked jaw...all because she was in the way of mommy's partying. My heart broke.
I somehow managed to patch it up with a little bit of duct tape and gathered myself together and answered the phone once more for one more baby.
I learned that parents do not show up for visits and/or court dates to get their children back, much less PTA events, recitals, and music programs. I have learned that babies at eleven months old have already learned that life is not fair and they can and will give up on life. I had thought that at eleven months old your only thought was "what can I get into today?" Unfortunately, for some eleven-month-old babies, their thoughts are more alongthe lines of "I saw daddy hit mommy. Cops took me away, and I am now in a shelter where there are 23 other babies my age. There is nobody to hold me or love me. I cannot deal with this any longer." I've learned that politics are more important than a four-month-olds wellbeing. I have learned that someone in the DA's office can work deals under the table unbeknownst to DHS. I learned that politics in the system did not care that Mom and Dad could not stay clean. They did not care that Mom had previously lost two children to adoption because she could not change her life. They did not care that Mom could not trouble herself to come to court or come to visits except sporadically. Because a child is ONLY property and has no rights, they sent him home. They never gave Mom a chance to clean up and to be the appropriate Mom a baby with health issues needed. Knowing that he was leaving to go home to unsafe conditions, this time, my heart shattered. Duct tape was not enough to mend it. With a bit of baling wire and lots of duct tape and patches, I put it together the best Icould and questioned my decision to become a foster parent.
In the midst of my grief and reconsidering my decision, the phone rang. Terri said "Shadawn, there is an 11 month old in the shelter. He has given up. He is no longer interacting with staff nor responding, and he has shut down. Can you take him?" When I picked up that beautiful brown eyed baby boy and looked into his eyes, what I saw broke my heart. Instead of the innocent happiness of a child, I saw a long black tunnel of despair and hopelessness. Again, my heart broke. I would rock him to sleep each night, kiss him on the forehead, and put him in his bed while my heart broke knowing his story. I brought out the duct tape and baling wire once more.
No longer is my heart in the perfect condition it once was. It has now been broken and repaired more times than I can count. Whereas it used to gleam, it is held together by duct tape and baling wire. More tears than I can count have been shed. I have been asked by many "How do you do this? Don't you get attached and get your heart broken? How do you keep doing this?" I look at the picture of the 11 month old (now 18 months). I look at his eyes in the pictures I picked up yesterday, and where there once was despair and hopelessness, there is now mischief and happiness. Instead of lying there listlessly and not responding, there is a little boy who loves to say "hut-hut" and then tackle mommy.
I do not do this for myself. I do not get my heart broken repeatedly because I enjoy it. I do it because of all my past, present, and future babies. I do it because they need to go to bed at night hearing "I love you". Is it easy? Not only no, but heck no. But every child, 0-18 years old, needs to know what it is like to not have to worry about if they will be fed or not. Even if it is just a few months, they know what it is like to be safe and sound. My heart is not near as important as they are. It will recover; that child may not.
Only a Month or So Left!
As promised, here is an update of what is going on lately. I don't think this one is going to be quite as insightful as the last one, but nonetheless, here goes.
I have to say, this isn't really sinking in yet. Bob and I have a nursery in our house, and it's just weird. It doesn't seem real. Once we got the room done, our 4 month old niece was here, and we had her in the crib as they were here all day. It's hard to think that there will be another baby in it soon.
The training that we are doing right now is designed to help us understand how to help meet these kids' needs, and also to understand how their experiences might be affecting their behaviors. It's also giving us lots of real-life examples of why these kids can end up in foster care. I'm telling you, it's enough to break your heart to think what these kids, as young as 8 months or even younger, have gone through. I can't explain in words the feelings that I have when I hear these stories, but they're feelings that tell me that I'm in the right place, and doing the right thing.
We are about four and a half weeks from being licensed…maybe five. I think we have four more books left, but five classes? We've been going every Monday, so our last class should be either September 29th or October 6th. In addition to our classes, we have had to get our house ready, do some training, and some other things so that we can get licensed. My mom, Amanda, and Jaime (I love you guys!) have been terribly helpful in this matter. No kidding…they spent 2+ days here helping Bob and I clean, de-clutter, and organize our house. I can't thank them enough, and I owe them…big time.
We have to have all medications (vitamins, cold medicine, prescription medicine, etc) locked away. We have to have anything that has "Keep out of reach of children" on it (hand soap, dish soap, laundry detergent, lotions, perfumes, etc) childproofed. That was a huge roadblock for me, as we've got a lot of that stuff in this house. Our social worker, Ann, came last week and we talked about a lot of it, and she put my mind more at ease. Then when my mom helped with the house, we got it done. DONE! Other than getting physicals, getting fingerprinted, and getting our dogs vaccinated, we are ready to be licensed! Yay!
Everyone keeps telling us how great we are, and what great parents we're going to be, and how inspiring this is. I tell you, it doesn't feel like we're doing anything special…it just feels like we're doing what God is wanting us to do. I think I said this before, but the farther and farther I get in this process, I really 110% feel like things happen for a reason, and that I don't think things like this come together by chance.
I have to say, this isn't really sinking in yet. Bob and I have a nursery in our house, and it's just weird. It doesn't seem real. Once we got the room done, our 4 month old niece was here, and we had her in the crib as they were here all day. It's hard to think that there will be another baby in it soon.
The training that we are doing right now is designed to help us understand how to help meet these kids' needs, and also to understand how their experiences might be affecting their behaviors. It's also giving us lots of real-life examples of why these kids can end up in foster care. I'm telling you, it's enough to break your heart to think what these kids, as young as 8 months or even younger, have gone through. I can't explain in words the feelings that I have when I hear these stories, but they're feelings that tell me that I'm in the right place, and doing the right thing.
We are about four and a half weeks from being licensed…maybe five. I think we have four more books left, but five classes? We've been going every Monday, so our last class should be either September 29th or October 6th. In addition to our classes, we have had to get our house ready, do some training, and some other things so that we can get licensed. My mom, Amanda, and Jaime (I love you guys!) have been terribly helpful in this matter. No kidding…they spent 2+ days here helping Bob and I clean, de-clutter, and organize our house. I can't thank them enough, and I owe them…big time.
We have to have all medications (vitamins, cold medicine, prescription medicine, etc) locked away. We have to have anything that has "Keep out of reach of children" on it (hand soap, dish soap, laundry detergent, lotions, perfumes, etc) childproofed. That was a huge roadblock for me, as we've got a lot of that stuff in this house. Our social worker, Ann, came last week and we talked about a lot of it, and she put my mind more at ease. Then when my mom helped with the house, we got it done. DONE! Other than getting physicals, getting fingerprinted, and getting our dogs vaccinated, we are ready to be licensed! Yay!
Everyone keeps telling us how great we are, and what great parents we're going to be, and how inspiring this is. I tell you, it doesn't feel like we're doing anything special…it just feels like we're doing what God is wanting us to do. I think I said this before, but the farther and farther I get in this process, I really 110% feel like things happen for a reason, and that I don't think things like this come together by chance.
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