Chaos and Grace

I have written before about how we host some neighborhood kids for games, dinner, and bible study on Thursdays.  I also mentioned how much it stretches me- pushes me outside my comfort zone, challenges my need for control, makes me address some fears I have right in the face.  But, as we have been doing this consistently for almost six months, the relationships we are forming with these boys are sweet and authentic.  Just this week alone I finally met three different mamas, which I had never met before.  It was so exciting to see these little men introduce me with pride to their mom, and then to see Mom's face light up when she finally gets to put a face with a name.

The past couple of weeks the number of kids in attendance has really grown.  Word is getting out that our xbox is cool, our food is good, and our family isn't so bad either.  And for the most part, these boys are really sweet and good-hearted boys.  But they are boys.  And when you put, say, FOURTEEN of them in one house playing (that doesn't include our five children we already have) things get chaotic so fast.  I realized...maybe that is why God gave me 5 chaotic kiddos...how else would I be able to deal with 14 additional chaotic ones....

Well.  Last night was extra crazy.  I don't know if it was because it was cold outside so they were all trying to squeeze in our walls or what.  I had to get on them several times about arguing, yelling, listening when I spoke.  Again, they usually do pretty well.  After dinner we were trying to get started with bible study but I knew they had left a mess upstairs.  I told them to go clean up and they all wanted to point fingers on who made the mess.  I think they forgot I AM A MOM and mama don't play that.  I sent them all to help and the next thing I knew Legos were flying over the second story rail downstairs.  Which is a no no around these parts.

Stuart and I already had discussed "consequences" for continual misbehavior or disrespect.  After all, we are opening our home to these boys and expect they treat our home with kindness.  So he sent them all home.  He just told them we had talked to them several times that night about respect and it wasn't happening so we were done for the evening and we would try again next week.

You can imagine that went well.  They weren't so much mad at us (I think most of them knew they were in the wrong and were out of control) but the finger pointing started again.  So much that this one kid got super upset.  He is 9 and VERY active and hard to contain.  He is so incredibly sweet but is usually bouncing off the walls.  He started yelling and crying so I kept him behind so he wasn't released on the neighborhood streets with his temper flaring.

I sat him down and explained that we all mess up.  We all make poor choices.  And then we get up and try again with a clean slate and that is called GRACE.  I told him we would try again next Thursday and no one was angry with him.  That concept of grace was foreign to him. I wanted him to know that even though tonight wasn't ideal, we still care for him deeply and we get to try it again.

Life is messy and full of times we screw it all up and I am so thankful I always get to try it again.  When one of my kids has had a particularly rough day, the last thing I tell them (well, next to last, I suppose "I love you" is the last thing) before bedtime is, "Tomorrow is a new day." God's mercies are new every morning.  I know I need that.  My kids need that. These boys need that.  Every day His mercies are new.  He is and does sustain us through the rest of it all.

The lessons didn't stop there. I had a sweet conversation with my kids after the boys all left about discipline, love, respect, and grace.  They were able to see all of those things we talk so much about outside of their own emotional experiences.  All the things we teach to them separate from their own emotions.  They knew the boys had overstepped their boundaries.  I told them how it was an opportunity to teach grace when many of those boys had never heard that word before.  I pray that through these crazy moments, the Lord continually draws my children to Himself.  That they will open their hearts and their lives to other messy, broken, chaotic people.  Because we are messy, broken, and chaotic and the Lord has been gracious to show us that, in turn, showing us our need for Him.  Our need for grace.  Our need for those new mercies every morning.  Our need for a Savior.

Hungry

I can't explain it. Groanings and longings that are too deep for words.  I try to put language to it, but it always falls short.  So I ramble, on and on, desperate for clarity and understanding. To define this stirring that is happening in the innermost parts of me.  To share with another soul what is going on with my own.

I am hungry.  Hungry for more of God, for more of my Savior, for more of His joy and peace and contentment and self-control. For more of Him reflected in my internal and external life.

It sounds awesome, right? Super holy and put together?

But I am hungry because I am desperate. So incredibly weary of the continuous struggle that seems to be life these days.  These months.  These years.  Hardship after hardship, small and large, inside and outside my skin and bones. My faith is wavering, shaking in the trials, unsteady as I move one step at a time.  I cry out, desperate for God to show me where He is at work, so that I may see Him and move more confidently .

Isn't that the point of hardship? To make us BEG for more of Him? To bring us to the only place we have left, for we are at the end of ourselves?  My cry seems to be on repeat these days, "Lord, I have nothing left!"

Somehow I make it through another day.  

But I have pleaded with Him to take me to a season where it's not just survival, but living full.  Right now I deplete the resources graciously given to me each day and am desperate for a refill when I wake to begin the next one.  Even throughout my waking hours, I sometimes need a jumpstart to my broken down soul.

I am trying to hope.  I am really trying to believe that one day these chapters in my story will be used for something good.  He has something in store for me that is beyond my wildest imagination.  I am really, really trying to camp out there.  But like I said, I am weary, my faith is weak, and my spirit is dry.  Sometimes I feel like my life is a puzzle and I am that last piece that just doesn't fit.  Or I am treading water in a glass box, trying to stay afloat while everyone else is on the outside watching me, living their lives.  Some days I am doing okay, keeping my head up so I can breathe, and other times I am just tired of swimming, of staying in the same place and not getting anywhere, of fighting this fight by myself. Or so it seems.

So I want more Jesus. Oh, I NEED Him so desperately.  Without Him I have no hope, there is no promise, there is nothing to cling to.  All my own resources are gone.  I have nothing to offer but a dry spirit.  

Ps 42:1

As a deer pants for flowing streams,
    so pants my soul for you, O God.

My soul thirsts for God,    for the living God.

Is 55:1

Come, everyone who thirsts,
    come to the waters;
and he who has no money,
    come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
    without money and without price.

Ps 81:10

 I am the Lord your God,
    who brought you up out of the land of Egypt.
    Open your mouth wide, and I will fill it.

Deut 8:3

And he humbled you and let you hunger and fed you with manna, which you did not know, nor did your fathers know, that he might make you know that man does not live by bread alone, but man lives by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord.

Matt. 5:6

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.

Baby Update - 9 months old

Baby Ben is 9 months old. I can't believe it. I haven't done an update in a few months but know that at this age I officially told him he needs to stop growing. Part of that is because he has four older siblings and I see what happens when kids get bigger and have opinions and learn how to disobey. 😉

Ben, at 9 months you:

Weigh 21 lbs, 3 oz and are 27.75

Inches long (75th% for weight and 25th% for height 

Wear 12 month clothes

Are on a 4 hour schedule and finally dropped your dream feed, so 4 bottles a day! 

Go to bed early and sleep 13 hours!!

Moved out of Mom and Dad's room and have your own room (okay it's the closet of the guest room but it's a big closet)

Moved from your infant carrier to a convertible car seat

Have one tooth

Are so very drooly. So so so slobbery

Say "mamamama"

Army crawl and also starting to pull up and plank 

Prefer playing with wrappers, cords, and shoes than a big box of toys

Are so so so loved by your family. Oh my. You are called "The Captain," "Prince," "Big Benny," and "Cutie Mootie" by your siblings 

Want to be entertained most of the time. How dare someone walk past you and keep going!

Eat three meals a day and like everything 

Went to Disney for the first time and somehow only got on one ride and it was the Haunted Mansion (mom of the year)

Here are some Ben pics! Because I can't get enough of snapping away!

Let Me Reiterate: Kids are Sponges

In case you missed it, read yesterday's post.  My point was simple.  Kids are sponges.  I am not saying they are innocent (one look at my own precious darlings will remind of sin nature from birth) but they are watching...listening...learning from the first teachers in their lives: YOU. Adults.  People who ought to know better than to use "M------ F-----" around children. I mean really.

So, this post was going to be called "The Time I Met a 5 Year Old Racist" but something in me thought that was a little harsh.  I also considered "The Week I Had to Have Way Too Many Life Lesson Conversations With My Kids."  What about "My Brain Hurts and the World is a Scary Place?"  Or, "No One is Ever Leaving This House Again."  All runners-up.

I have mentioned before about a weekly bible study we have at our house for some kids in the neighborhood.  Yesterday was no different.  We met up at the park and the older boys and Stuart were playing football.  I walked home to start supper and took my girls plus one of the little boys with me while his big brother stayed to play.  This kid has been at my house every week for two straight months.  He is five and just entered kindergarten.  He is a relatively sweet kid.

The charter school where  my big kids go is right inside our neighborhood, and my oldest daughter was pointing out that was where they go to school.  Out of nowhere, this precious little guy says, "I was going to go to that school there but there are too many white people." (Yes, this kid is African-American.) I was kinda caught off guard by the statement.

"Actually, it's a pretty even mix there," I told him.  Which is true.  Actually, if I remember the numbers correctly, there are more black kids at the school than white kids. But it is diverse.  One reason we love it.

"Well, I don't like white people," he replied.  *THE WHITE PERSON HE IS HAVING A CONVERSATION WITH RAISES HER EYEBROWS.*

"Why don't you like white people?" I asked this FIVE YEAR OLD.

"Because they don't talk right."

What does that even mean?

And my peacemaking, brown-skinned 7 year old chimes in: "I like white people!" Oh bless you darling. I hope you do.  Most of your family is white.

"Well, I'm not sure what skin color has to do with it. That's not a very nice thing to say," I said. Ever tried to eradicate racism from a child in two sentences? Not easy.  Because he has said his peace and he has moved on to getting a weed-eater for his sixth birthday.

Because you know that is what that is, right? To not like a group of people because of their skin color? Racism. From a child.

I would bet money that this precious boy did not form an opinion about going to that school because of its racial makeup all on his own.  I'm pretty sure he did not form his individualized perspective on the communication from caucasian people based on extensive conversations and life experience.  No.  HE HEARD IT SOMEWHERE. He learned it.  I am sure of this because he said it to me - a white person - while on the way to my house where he would eat dinner, hear about Jesus, and play with my toys.  It was like he didn't even realize he was actually speaking to a white person.

It made my heart sad, and similar to the day before, I wanted to have an open conversation with my big kids about what he said.  Because the truth is, we are an interracial family.  Some people have strong opinions about that fact and they will share those opinion whether we want them to or not.  My white children will have different life experiences than my black children in this world.  I want to be the one to talk about race with them, coming from a place of all people made in the image of our Creator, not some kid out there who lives around bigoted adults. (Sorry.)

Before bed last night, I brought it up to my two 5 year olds and 7 year old.  I asked them if they even knew what he meant by "white people."  They said NO.  Y'all.  My kids aren't colorblind.  They are well aware they have different skin.  They often use "peach skin" and "brown skin" to describe people.  But it is used in context like "blonde hair" or "green eyes." Just a descriptor.   I told them he meant people with peach skin.

You should have seen the sadness as the connections were made.  That this boy, who is just a boy to them, would say he doesn't like people that have the same skin color as themselves or the people they love most in this world.

Spencer started crying.  Ella was shocked.  (Kate was probably doing somersaults somewhere. Y'all, she is in la-la land. No sweat off her brow.)  Ella said, "Mom, I'm not sad because it hurts me.  I'm sad because it's mean about my family."

Oh child.

We talked AGAIN about how we believe and act differently than some people.  But it is important for us to keep welcoming people who don't know Jesus into our home so they can know Him too.  It is the hard thing.  To love others who don't love you.  But God sees it and will reward us in heaven. And He is the one that can change hearts. Then Ella said, "Maybe he will realize it was mean and he will say he's sorry."

Maybe he will. Or maybe he will continue to grow learning hate.  I can only pray for God to wreck this little boy's life...and all those with hate in their hearts...for His glory.

Am I angry at this kid? No.  He's 5.  He has no idea.  But if there is one thing I am so obviously reminded of this week is how much influence we have in little people's lives.  My kids, my kids' friends, neighborhood kids....all the small people that I interact with on a regular basis.  I want to teach and be a model of love, grace, redemption, God loving sinners even to the smallest of bodies.  Children aren't invisible.  They also aren't stupid.  They are going to grab hold of what the people they love most put out there.  What are you putting out there? I know I'm definitely challenged to reflect on that.

Language Lesson

Well...did you think I disappeared forever?  Probably not.

School is back in full swing around these parts.  I have entered into a new life season: the one with one baby at home.  I have never had this before.  I mean, back when I first became a parent, I still had two babies at one time.  Then we added two more.  Then Baby Ben made his arrival and I had 4 kids at home with me full time - only one in school.  But now - my twins are in kindergarten, I have a second grader, and my four year old is in full-time pre-k.  So it's just me and my little buddy.  How about this one kid thing. I mean - I basically just throw him in the car and we can do just about anything.  And I mean as long as it's before 9 am and between 11-12:30 pm because otherwise he's napping.  And life *kinda* has to revolve around a baby's nap schedule.  At least if you are a control freak like me and like order in your life.

ANYWAY.

So this week has been interesting.  Let's chat about that four year old for a second.  If you don't know him, I do not really know how to describe him.  He is his own breed.  He pretty much lives with one foot in our world and one foot in a world where he wears his clothes backwards (even jeans), falls down a lot, says things that don't really make sense, asks questions over and over.  It's a fun world he likes living in. I mean, language is still coming for him, even though he's been home for 2 years. So IMAGINE MY SURPRISE when I pick him up from school and as he walks to the car with his teacher he gives me a thumbs down.  Okay....and his teacher says, "So, he cursed in class today."

What? (For the record - just FYI - we don't curse in our house. Like ever. Even on accident. And there are no shows or music on with cursing.  No one we spend time with curses.)  "What did he say?" I asked her.

"He actually said m----- f-----."

"OH NO HE DIDN'T."

Yes, yes he did.

In all my fine parenting glory (because I ain't about to be THAT MOM who sent her kid to school teaching other kids M-F) I immediately say, "He has never heard that at our house. Ever. He had to have heard that here at school.  He wouldn't even know what that means."

She said she asked him if he heard that from Mommy (CAN YOU IMAGINE) and he said no.  Thank goodness.  I mean honestly, sometimes you don't know what he's going to say.  I didn't know if I was going to laugh or cry.  So I did both. It made me sad but I know he had no idea.

I assured her we would handle it and informed him he could not speak on the way home. It was now time to figure out how to discipline something that he has no idea what he said.  I am serious, y'all.  I'm not naive.  The boy doesn't know the difference between a bagel and a donut and a cookie.  He doesn't know what he said.  He parroted what someone else said.

So then we handle it and later Stuart and I look at each other and he says, "Are you sure he even knows what word he is in trouble for?" So then...I go in his room (where he has been sitting on his bed awaiting further instruction because he's well aware this is serious) and I asked him where he heard the word.  He described as best he could a girl at school.  Then I said, "Do you even know what word you are in trouble for?" He didn't.  So guess what.  I had to say it.  It took me three tries to even get it out.

But I was so sad.  Sad that language like that is coming from children's mouths at his school.  Sad that a grown up in some kid's life is using language like that and their kid is using it and saying it in her PRESCHOOL class.  And my son, who is delightfully unaware most of his days, now has been exposed already to that type of language.  Of all the words.  Seriously.

Adults, kids are sponges.  Not just for bad language.  But all the things we do and say.  What do we want to teach them? How to criticize themselves and laugh at others? How to huff and puff and be annoyed when we don't get our way? How to play on our phone instead of interacting in real life? To use words that lift others up or words that tear others down? Because they are listening. And watching. When we talk with our friends outside, when we chat on the phone, when we play our music in the car...all of it.

A Break

So for the last two weeks or so, I have been taking a little hiatus from social media. I haven't been on Facebook or Instagram at all, except to respond to messages I had received every now and then. I decided to take a little break because I had felt it had become almost obsessive in my life...is this picture perfect, how many likes or comments do I have, what's going on in so-and-so's world...and then, inevitably for me, why does she always look perfect? How come she can go there with her kids and I am a total circus each and every day? I can't post a pic of myself because I look lazy/fat/ugly...you get it. 

So I took a break from it all. 

I realized it had become like an addiction when the first couple of days it was really hard to just sit still. At stoplights, when the kids were in bed, when I was feeding a baby, during commercial breaks. So I decided to talk to my baby instead. Sing louder to the radio. Have a book nearby. 

But I wanted to know what was going on in people's worlds. I felt like I was missing out. Disconnected. But truthfully, here lately that disconnected feeling had been happening a lot anyway, and I actually think social media was making it worse. 

One of my favorite people had a baby. Because of our lives and distance, we hadn't really kept in touch a ton. But she texted and let me know she was being induced to welcome her son into the world. I was so thankful because I wouldn't had known otherwise, because of my little hiatus. But she thought of me and that made me feel more loved than any comment on fb would have. And because of that, she came to my mind more, and I remembered to check in on her a few times. We chatted more (via text, mind you, as that is a mom's life it seems) over the last two weeks than we have in who knows how long. I am so thankful for that. 

I browsed the news feed last night just because. I hadn't given myself a specific amount of time to stay off so I didn't feel like it was a problem. But it made me think. By seeing these edited little glimpses into others' lives, do we trick ourselves in thinking that is real connection? Undoubtedly so, social media can be used to positively interact with others we may not otherwise. But do we sometimes use it as a replacement, as a cop out, thinking because we know someone's kids' names and ages, where they vacation, their due date, their birthday...that we don't have to put forth real effort in lives? We are called to live in community, the good, the bad, the ugly with the people God puts in our paths. And that is hard. It's hard to let people in to see our mess. To see our less than, unedited moments. 

I am challenged to do more of that. Life is unedited. Chaos is reality. But there is beauty there, if only we slow down and look. 

Stretched Past Comfortable

Another confession: I am a control freak.

Like not in the must-have-everything-in-order, clean-freak type way. Like, I want everything-to-go-according-to-plan-and-there-must-be-a-plan-or-I-hyperventilate kind of way.

Yeah, yeah. It's laughable, as I think through our adoption journey, how we ended up here planting a church, and the fact I have 5 children ages 7 and under that I still have a need for control at all.  There is basically ZERO that I actually have control over. (But really perceived control is almost like actual control, right?)

Basically nothing in my "life plan" has panned out.  And for that - I am thankful - but that doesn't mean it has been easy.

Once upon a time I thought I was flexible and hospitable and able to roll with the punches.  Well, turns out that is a big fat lie and I like plans, lists, quiet, and controlled chaos more than I thought.  Please try to stifle your laughter if you know me at all.  There is no control - just chaos, some wonderful, some not - in my life.  I battle serious anxiety and fear in regards to my children and controlling their every aspect of life.  Sending them to school is terrifying because they are learning and listening to things that are beyond my scope of power.  I battle this every.single.day.  What they hear. The words they use. What they do when I can't see. How they will handle peer pressure. Who they want to be like. How they view "cool." Making good decisions.

When we moved to this city, part of the vision for planting a church involved living where we were planting.  Opening our lives and home to ministry and living our life rhythms with others as we walk our God story.  We have and are doing that and MAN it is hard for me.  So much harder than I ever thought it would be.  In my mind, I loved planning parties and having friends and I wanted my house to be "THE house" where the kids' friends would come. (I still think this is wise but it may be more related to control than anything!)  I did not know how much it would stretch me.  I suppose our house and kids have more "rules" than others (I prefer to use the word structure) and I do not apologize for that. It is what my kids need and it is what I need. So when I open my home to others who don't operate in my little need-for-control world, it is almost like I begin to panic.  The Lord is working on that in me by making me live my actual life, dangit.

There is a group of adolescent boys (and sometimes their younger siblings) that we run into often around the neighborhood.  They are polite and usually attend our outreach events.  They know Stuart by name but neither of us have met any adults in their lives.  They came to the backyard bible club a mission team came in and hosted and had a blast playing baseball with the volunteers.  They really enjoyed themselves at the crawfish boil that night and the next day they showed up on our front stoop wanting more food and more games.  We considered that a blessing - anytime someone goes out of their way to come to YOU, I am learning, that is huge.  We didn't have any leftovers at that point (us and another couple spent hours shelling every crawfish that was left to freeze the meat and I had the crawfish splinter to prove it) but Stu invited them to RC's (our church plant we moved here to start) bible study that night.  The boys said they couldn't come because the school where we meet is outside their "approved boundaries" set by their mamas.

"Okay." Stuart said. "What if one night I make some food you guys could come here and eat and we'll do bible study together at the house?"

They agreed.  He got a phone number of one of the "leaders" (you know in groups there is always one that everyone else defaults to - and in this case, he turns 13 today).

That Thursday rolled around and at the last minute he got a text they weren't going to be able to make it.

Thursday rolled around again and prayers were answered and they were coming.  And right at 5 pm, our doorbell rang and 5 boys ages 5-14 were ready for food and bible study.

Immediately, my children turned into their normal attention-starved lunatics and act like no one has every paid a bit of attention to them in their life, which is lovely. This is how it is every time there is someone around.  Which makes a ministry-filled life super exciting. And by exciting I mean it is incredibly annoying and I need to learn to laugh at it a little more. The other boys spot the xbox and want to play. Stuart is trying to finish grilling dinner and I can feel the heart palpitations begin.  I take the baby and sit in my quiet bedroom and ask God to quiet the fears that my children are going to grow up and do whatever it takes to be "cool" and get attention than what I have taught them. My honest-to-goodness thoughts at that moment. And then I take a deep breath and walk back out there.

Do you know how God showed me grace in that moment?

Most of my fears about the kids' futures surround Ella.  I think that is two-fold: she is the oldest and I have had the least amount of time pouring into her foundation, since she came into our family at age 5.  Anyway, she walked up to me as I finishing up making plates of chicken wings and corn on the cob (what else is better for a bunch of boys) and instead of joining the party and trying to get everyone to pay attention to her she said, "Mom, is there anything I can help you with?" At that moment, I could have cried.  It would not have been bad for her to be playing Just Dance with the others. That would have been fine.  My fears are pretty much irrational and I know that, but it doesn't make them go away.  It is something the Lord has to change in me. At that moment, it was like the Holy Spirit was saying, "Jenny. I see your fears. You have no need to fear when you are Mine. I am in control and I will work everything out for your good and for her good, too."

That little moment of grace allowed me to enjoy the rest of my night.  I rested in that promise, whooped the boys in Just Dance (I still hold the crown in this house), sang Happy Birthday to Carlos, had reading time and Legos with my kids while the big boys did bible study, and rested in His provision of grace for the day.

Does that mean all my fears are forever squashed? No. I have to lay these struggles down before Jesus day in and day out. I would be unwise to think that because one time God showed up and my eyes (and heart) were prepared to receive His gift of grace in that moment that I don't have to actively continue seeking Him.  The enemy would love me to be tricked to believe that I am bigger than my struggles. The world also teaches that.  But that's not true - I am not bigger or stronger than my weaknesses.  That is an incomplete statement.  I am bigger and stronger, more than a conqueror, only in Christ alone.  Abiding, dwelling, living and having my being in Christ alone is what makes me able to tap into the same strength that raised Jesus from the dead. Apart from that I am a fearful and anxious mess.

The Time Someone Told Me I Sounded African

For the record, I am not African.  The grand total of time I have spent in Africa is 9 days, and that was to pick up our son and daughter.  I have red auburn hair and freckles.

Today I took the kids to a park and splashpad here in town.  They immediately ran to these super awesome swings where multiple kids can sit on one, so Ella (the oldest) was pushing the other three.  A lady walked up to me and I could smell it on her that she was itching to ask questions.  (You just start to know when someone wants to ask something.)  So I made eye contact with her and smiled to let her know, "Hey, it's okay, I won't bite," and she read my signals correctly.

"Where are you from?"

I was confused.  I'm used to more of the "where are THEY from," "are you a foster parent," "are they all yours," variety. "Me? Or my children?" I said.

"Yes, you."

"Um, well originally I am from Kentucky."

She looked confused.  Which was right in line with what I felt.

"Well, what about them?" She pointed in the general direction of the kids.

"Well, two of my children were born in the Congo."

"OH." She said.  "And have you spent a lot of time there?"

"Um...in Africa? I mean, I spent about nine days there."

"Oh, ok.  You just sound like you have spent considerable time in Africa." She just kept going, and I just kept being confused. "Your children, do they still have accents?"

"Yes, a little, I suppose. I don't really notice too much."

"Maybe they've rubbed off on you.  You sound like you are from Congo."

OKAY. I have heard a lot of weird things in my day, but that one was a first.

She did go one to say how beautiful my family was, which I thanked her for because many don't say that, and she replied with "people are people," and then moved on about her day.

Let me know if my accent gets too thick and you need translation.  I'm also a professional translator.

Good Job, Mama

Good job, Mama.

You got up today.

You fed your kids. (I do not care if it was pop tarts and cheez-its or organic carrots and blueberry spinach smoothies.)

You showed up.

Good job.

You weren't perfect, but you pressed on.

Remember, your imperfection is not going to scar your children. IN FACT, it is what God will use to draw them to Himself.  He is the perfect one.  If you were perfect, you could be their savior - and then what would be their need for Jesus?

Good job, mama.

You got out of bed.  You read another book even when your head hurt.

You disciplined that kid even though you didn't want to.

You went to work even though you didn't want to.

You left a crying toddler at the babysitter's because you had to.

You washed (some of) the dishes that had been there a few days.

You were touched and talked to from 6 am to 9 pm.

Good job, mama.

You bucked car seats ninety seven times.

You replaced that band-aid three times.

You listened to the Frozen soundtrack seven times.

You are doing good.

You apologized when you messed up.

You made your children apologize when they messed up.

You gave yourself a timeout before you did something that would need an apology later.

That's pretty stinkin' awesome.

You did your best.  That's good enough. In fact, it's incredible.

You were made for just your life.  It's obvious.

You died to yourself today. You laid down what you wanted in exchange to serve someone other than you.  That is not natural - that is Jesus working in you.

That's kinda great.

You are fighting the good fight. You are doing a good work.

Keep it up.

Good job, Mama.

Watching Out for Nets

It was 7:15 am. I had been up for about an hour - the baby woke up early, so I fed him and he was already back asleep.  No one else was up yet so I made myself a yummy pumpkin chai (I do not even care if it is June - I love pumpkin year round) and sat at the kitchen table with my bible to do my quiet time.  Rare. So very rare.  My quiet time when it is actually quiet. First thing in the morning.

Starting a proverb a day today - so Proverbs 1 it is.  7:18 am. I hear the first footsteps.  The oldest is up.  She sees me at the table and instead of playing upstairs like she would if I wasn't up yet, she asks if she can come down. I tell her only if she is quiet and she joins me with some coloring at the table.

Then, every few minutes, another set of footsteps pitter patter down the upstairs hall and join.  Soon my "quiet" time has gained 4 additional bodies who are anything but quiet, even at 7:24 in the morning. But dang it, I have my chai, I'm in a chair, I'm doing it, even if I have to plug my ears. I can't make it through all of Proverbs 1 because I'm especially hung up on a few verses I want to sit in my heart today. For some reason, I feel like I'm gonna need all the wisdom I can get.

Proverbs 1: 7 "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and instruction."

Well. The Lord knows I desire knowledge - because basically every day I'm all like I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'M DOING IN THIS CRAZY LIFE and be actin' a fool more often than I will admit to you, kind reader.

I continue.

Proverbs 1:10 "My son, if sinners entice you, do not consent."

The sinners that came to mind here were not the four little people that had interrupted my precious time.  (Though sinners, they are. Bless their little hearts.) Instead, God brought to mind the things the enemy uses, my weak spots, to entice me.  My "sinners" that often entice me are jealousy, self-deprecation, selfishness, laziness, pride.  These result in impatience, anger, judgment of others, isolation, fear, lack of prayer, lack of faith, and sadness.  I feel like I have learned A LOT about myself over these last 18 months.  But as a wise teacher once shared with me, "Introspection is not change." Just because I know these areas of weaknesses about myself doesn't actually change anything by itself.  Only by the power and grace of the Holy Spirit and continual communion with God will change occur.  I confess that so often I know my own triggers, I know what gets me, I know what makes me feel crappy and then when I'm already in the pit I'm like, "Yep. Seems just like me."

Enter: I want to watch out for the net.

Proverbs 1: 17 "For in vain is a net spread in the sight of any bird."

I didn't get this at first. But after reading some commentary and the revelation God laid on my own heart, it clicked.  I WANT TO SEE THE NET BEFORE IT TRAPS ME. Because if I see the net, call it a net, then like any wise ol' bird I will avoid it.  The enemy is setting that net in vain because why I would I willingly trap myself?  If I have knowledge of the things that separate me from my Lord (the "sinners that entice" me) then I can head the other direction - into the arms of my Jesus who saves me. To the One who has provided victory over the very things that desire to swallow me whole.

So I challenge you, as I am challenging myself, to think about what are the things that entice you most, distract you from the fullness of life Jesus promises and provides for you? I've shared some of mine with you here. Examine your own heart and pray that God would give you eyes to see the nets the enemy may try to trap you in.  Then pray for wisdom to see those nets, so that they might be set in vain, so that you can head the other way.

Right after I finished my reading time, and these verses were fresh on my heart, I had a chance to practice net spotting.  My selfishness and laziness nets were waiting for me, like bait on a hook, and praise the Lord He helped me spot them before I pulled a Jenny and stepped right in. His Word was living and active in my life at that moment.  I wish it was a one-time fix and now this problem is solved, but you all know as well as I do this is a on-going process.  Sanctification, becoming more like Jesus, never will end this side of glory.

Truth Time

Okay, here goes.

Sometimes my kids annoy me.

There. I said it.

That thing we all think and then feel terrible about it because surely a good mom - a GODLY mom - would never ever think that.

If that is the case, you can go ahead and call me (because I call myself this) #worldsokayestmom

And if I take this truth further...I have five children....someone is always "off" or having a day or a crisis or going through a season of being exceptionally annoying so sometimes it feels like I am correcting and discipling and fussing and being annoyed all.the.time.

I'm working on it. :)

Judge me if you care to. (Which, by the way, is annoying too.)

The most annoying one at the moment shall remain nameless.  That particular child is at an annoying age right now.  There are SO.MANY.QUESTIONS and opinions and instructions that I have said no less than nine million times and I am human and can only handle so much before steam begins to come out of my ears.

So often I do not handle this well.  It is evident by my tone or the deep breath I have to take before I respond (so I don't lose it) that I am annoyed.  This particular child does not pick up on these cues (heaven help him/her).  I am constantly (and I mean multiple times a day) asking God for more patience because this SURELY is outside of my own human capability.

What about you? What do you do when you are getting particularly *annoyed* by a small human - or anyone you love?

I Feeled God

We were sitting at the dinner table last week when all of a sudden Kate stops and very dramatically proclaims: "MOMMY. I feeled Jesus."

I'm sorry. What?

"I FEELED GOD. Right here next to me. I just reached out and feeled His belly."

And Josiah, a 3 year old boy of few (coherent) words, looks at me with his eyes bugged out and says, "That's not good."

It got me to thinking.  WHAT IF WE COULD REACH OUT AND TOUCH JESUS ANYTIME WE WANTED? Like, tangibly feel his skin on our fingertips.

Ahhhhh.  I wish.

Christian, have you ever had a dry spell? Like where it felt like your prayers were falling on deaf ears? You wondered if God even heard you at all?  Did He fall asleep listening to you whine and pout? Did He walk away to deal with others with more "pressing" issues? You longed to lift up your hands in worship but you just weren't...feeling it?

No? Just me then? Okay.

I worked at a Christian summer camp for two summers in college as a bible study and recreation leader.  It was so much fun and a crazy cool job and changed my ever-lovin' life.  Seriously.  God was moving and shaking and wrecking kids' worlds (and staffers too!) and I had front row seats to it all.  But there was a period of time when I just didn't FEEL Jesus.  I knew He was there - crap, there was testimony that was undeniable in so many lives - but for me personally, the emotional feeling was missing.  I was able to sit in powerful worship services every.single.night. and not feel Him.  I prayed and prayed for Him to show up REAL in my life.  Like, if I could reach out and feel His belly, that'd be great.

Weeks and weeks went by. Nothing.  I clung to my bible, reading through Jeremiah, trusting this season would end and on the other side, I would feel Him again.  And you know what, I did.

In the 10+ years since that summer, there have many seasons where God is so real and tangible and my heart is stirring and my faith is strong and the tears flow in response.  And then there are seasons where all I can do is trust that His word is true and put one foot in front of the other in faith, and in faith alone.  My emotions, or my feelings, do not change His presence in my life. His intimate, never-ceasing, completely enveloping presence in my life.  He is there, all the time, whether my emotions agree or not.

I pray I can believe that today.  I pray it for you as well.

You Know You Have a Lot of Kids When...

I can't wait to add to this hilarious list as they happen. Because this is my real life.

If you have any to add, please share!!

You know you have a lot of kids when you can not participate in car pool or take any friends anywhere because your Suburban is full of installed car seats with children strapped in.

You know you have a lot of kids when it is best for you to grocery shop at a restaurant depot. Y'all. I'm not even talking Costco. An actual place where restaurants buy their food in bulk. (Seriously-price per frozen waffle is the best!)

You know you have a lot of kids when you make toast for breakfast and it uses an entire loaf.

You know you have a lot of kids when you have too much laundry to have one laundry day. Like you could sit at your washer and dryer all day long and still not get it done.

You know you have a lot of kids when you visit a zoo or museum once and it is more cost efficient to buy an annual membership. So you do - even if it is in another city.

You know you have a lot of kids when you walk into a restaurant on kids eat free night and the workers roll their eyes because they know they are losing so much money on you.

You know you have a lot of kids when the fewest number of people who share a room is 2. Ever. Until someone goes to college.

Please don't mention college. Or cars. Of weddings.

You know you have a lot of kids when you ONLY have to take 3 kids with you to the store.

You know you have a lot of kids when your friends can't remember all your kids' names. - Tina

You know you have a lot of kids when you are considering getting a different vehicle and the number of people it seats is the single most narrowing factor. (Need an 8 seater.)

You know you have a lot of kids when you go to eat at a restaurant with other adults and the waiter can't figure out who to give the kids' check to and then you take them all and his eyes nearly bug out of his head. 

You know you have a lot of kids when you consider getting two babysitters instead of one. 

You know you have a lot of kids when you make two pans of food for dinner and there are no leftovers. (Oh I can't imagine when these kids get older how I will keep them fed....)

You know you have a lot of kids when multiple children are due for check ups but you can't take them all at the same time because you have more than the office limit of family visits at one time. 

You know you have a lot of kids when you are introducing your family and the single most popular FIRST comment is, "You have your hands full!"

You know you have a lot of kids when you wish you would have taken some notes from the Duggars from "19 Kids and Counting" because that mama knows some things! - Blair

You know you have a lot of kids when you realize you really only need one more family your size to qualify for "group rates" on tickets. 

You know you have a lot of kids when you think about the future and notice if all your children follow in your footsteps you could have over TWO DOZEN grandchildren. Ay yi yi. 

Any more?




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Baby update: 4 months

Four months! Holy cow! What a month it's been for Ben. He is SO much fun. I do not remember having fun at this point yet with the twins. :) I feel like I have a little buddy! He is a lot of work and makes the routine with the older 4 off a bit (just keeping it real so you don't think I'm saying it is easy) but man, I sure do love and like this kid.
He has had a BIG month. He's learned a lot, changed a lot, grown a lot.
Ben, at 4 months, you:
-weigh 15 lbs, 3 oz and are 24.5 inches long (almost 3.5 lbs since your 2 month appointment and that's in the same month you had surgery!) about 50th percentile for both height and weight
-slept through the night once (two nights ago) so I am hoping we are turning a corner!!
-laugh and smile freely
-like your ribs tickled
-enjoy patty cake
-now think bath time is fun!
-don't sleep as long in the car seat (booooooooo)
-have done SO MUCH BETTER with your 45 minute naps. Oh my. But we cheated and you nap in your rock and play in our closet where it is pitch dark. But whatever. You are napping.
-had your lip and gum repair! You also got ear tubes and the surgeon started working on that bottom lip. There is a lot of work to go but you are strong and amazing! We spent one night in the hospital and recovery was about 10 days after that before I felt like we turned a corner back to pre-surgery Ben. But obviously since you have gained weight in the three weeks since surgery, mouth surgery can not hold you down!
-have the most squishiest cheeks on the planet.
-rolled belly to back for the first time on 5/14. You aren't far from back to belly.
-for whatever reason, you can't hold your pacifier in as well as pre-lip repair. I don't know if your muscles are still weak or what. So you chew on other things to soothe. You like your little Mickey lovey ear. I'm trying to encourage your hands but you aren't agreeing yet.
-whenever you start to seem dissatisfied with formula alone, your doctor said you could start cereal. We are not in a hurry but know it's coming!
-do not like loud, startling noises. But you can handle noise/chaos. Such is life.

The morning of surgery : last pic with a cleft lip!




Our sweet boy with his new mouth after surgery




Wearing his no-nos! (To keep his hands out of his mouth)




Hanging with Ella at her soccer game




Starting to enjoy bath time




These two. Oh my.




Kate even sometime shares her beloved Bunny with Ben.




Trying out the next hold in the Ergo! (Not a newborn anymore. Sniff.)




Talking to the man in the mirror...




Oh Mickey!




Mama is a bit picture happy because he is so dang sweet! And I'm proud of him.
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End of an Era

Last night we officially changed over the kids' bedrooms. Kate and Spencer have shared a bedroom (and sometimes a bed) since day 1, save for a handful of times when we are out of town or one of them is somewhere else. 

It's just how it's been. 

But it was time to change things up. It was time to move the girls (ages 7 and 5) together and the boys (ages 5 and 3) together. It was time for Ella to be with a girl instead of her youngest brother. No one has ever complained about room assignments; all they basically do is sleep in there. The rest of the time they are bouncing between rooms and the playroom anyway. We wanted it to be a big deal: to decorate and paint and do bunk beds. But alas, being a grown up with real grown up expenses stinks and those extras will just have to wait. 

Of course, Mommy was the saddest of all. I don't know. It seems like the first step in losing that special twinbond. I know it's best but I'm still sad because I am a giant sap, okay?

So because I am a sap and I want to torture myself, here is a little tribute to Kate and Spencer sharing a room over the last 5.5 years. 

 

Getting their room ready. (About 25 weeks pregnant here) (so if you count pregnancy it's been 6 years! I'm a dork.)

 

Their first room ready for them

2 weeks before they were born. See they even shared a womb. Can't get much more "sharing a room from Day 1" than that!! (Sharing a 'womb' from day 1! Hahahahahaha! Get it?)

Only a mere few weeks old. Oh, my ovaries are hurting and I even have a tiny baby at home right now. 

When they got promoted to big kid beds. 

A little light reading in their big kid beds. (2 years old)

The night before their third birthday. 

They really got on a kick around age 3 about sleeping together. 

I am going to go sit in a corner and cry now. 

When I Should Stop and Listen to Myself

So, my husband joked that for Mother's Day he got me a hernia surgery.  And we only laughed for a few seconds, because there was a shred of truth there. A hernia surgery allowed made me lay in bed for 3 straight days watching Chicago PD (I'm all caught up now) and reading two books and napping.  It wasn't all rainbows and unicorns (the pain is comparable to a c-section and did you know you use your core muscles for everything?? so stuff like vomiting, coughing, rolling over in bed...yeah.  Ouch.)

Anywho, I'm not sure what happened, but instead of invigorating me and feeling rested and a welcome break from the chaos my five children bring, I instead have been feeling a heavy pit of discouragement in the depths of my being.  These pits come around every so often.  They are marked by seasons where everything seems like a struggle - like normal, everyday things.  I wonder, I question, I beg, I plead...when will a sweet season come? When? It has felt like "survival" for so long, and I am ready to LIVE.

I cried out to the Lord, I cried out to my husband, and then the latter sent me to bed for the remainder of the night because I still felt like crap and that probably had the majority to do with my despair.  And I woke this morning to a text from one of my dearest friends who is just in the middle of dealing with some tough stuff.  And honestly, it's been tough for a while.  Really, tough doesn't even begin to describe it but it's not my story to tell. But she is in a place I know well, even if our paths to get us there are different, and she is just surviving.  Barely, it seems, some days.  But she longs to not just survive but to LIVE.

I am not one to retort cliches to my people when the tough crap comes. I have had that dealt my way many times and I know that even though others mean well, it falls in awkward ways on a weary and hurting soul.  So instead I blab on about tattoos and dried worms and then in the midst remind her she is awesome and brave and never ever alone.  She is allowed to feel all her feels and be afraid and not understand and tell God how freaking mad she is.  That is okay.  I have learned He can handle all that.  He can handle all our feels (have you read the Psalms?) and encourages us to feel all our feels right out at the foot of the very cross that defeated sin and death.  I tell her Jesus isn't going anywhere. He is making her brave by her choosing to breathe in and out.  Because there is always a choice.  It is brave to trust Christ when crap just doesn't make sense.  That is the very Spirit of God, being brave in us and for us. The easy thing would be to quit. To give up following Him.  To throw in the towel and rely on yourself and just make it through each day.  The brave thing is to allow God to live and move and have His being in you when the stuff hits the fan and you can not see the next step.

And then.  As I am speaking all that truth to her.  I hear it.  So very quiet and still in my own heart.

I should listen to myself.

Not 12 hours before, I poured my tears out over an issue I have cried over countless times.  Something I have zero control over, but I work and fight and agonize like it's all up to me.  But no matter how hard I try, I can not control the outcome.  And I just wish it were different. Plain and simple.  Sometimes I am mad at how it is turning out.  Sometimes I want to quit and walk away from parts of my life that requires me to be poured out so much.  It requires so much more of me than I actually have to give and since I can not see the next step, survival is all I can do at times.  But when the bible talks of peace, and abundant life, and joy everlasting I wonder, "What am I doing wrong?"  Then, today, in the midst of my precious friend's hurt, as I hurt right along with her, I believe with every ounce of my being that God has not left her.  He is not punishing her because that is not in line with His character.  He is a good God who loves completely. He is able to heal her sorrows and bring joy in the morning.  He is able.  I want her to know that she is never ever alone, because He isn't going anywhere.  And I want to encourage her to hold on to a living hope - one that is not dead - a Hope that is alive and kicking and fighting for her because she is precious and her story is beautiful.

And if I truly believe that for her, can't I also believe it for myself?

Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to all the warriors out there : moms working hard in the daily grind thinking no ones sees, moms fighting for their kids, moms aching for their babies waiting for them in heaven, moms longing for their babies across the ocean, and moms-to-be that aren't yet though wish they were.

Today I am extraordinarily thankful for my own mom and mother-in-law; surely I wouldn't have these blessings today if it weren't for those two women and the generations before them.

I am thankful for the man who has made me a mama and walks this crazy life with me day in and day out, who encourages me when I am sure I am doing it all wrong, who loves me in spite of my mistakes, and who will be by my side all our days together on this earth.

And for these five youngins, who say "Mommy," more times a day than I can count, who ask questions until I think my brain might explode, who make sure someone is having a crisis daily. To these five who remind me of God's never-ending and unexplainable grace, who forgive me when I mess up yet again, who keep me in the grips of my sovereign Father.


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RIP to Our Pet

Many moms are familiar with the sentence I heard from my five year old son the other day, "Mom, I found a pet." The surprise comes in what kind of pet.

During our Derby party, the kids are playing outside with some of our friends. Spencer comes in the house requesting a cup because he had found a new pet. He had picked up a roly poly outside and wanted a home for it.



Well, the next thing I know, my most tender-hearted child is running inside and his face is all red and splotchy from crying. "Spencer! What happened?!"

"My roly poly is dead!"

Oh.

You know how living things need food and water? Well, Spencer knows that fact too and added it a little bit of water to the cup. Enough that the roly poly drowned.

So here we are, wrapping up our Derby party with about 10–12 people and he is terribly upset because he unintentionally drowned the first living thing he tried to care for on his own.

And naturally, because this is how it goes, as he hands me the cup so I can inspect it, I drop it on the floor and this poor bug tumbles across the kitchen floor.

Quickly I push the bug back into the cup before my already upset son realizes what just happened. What's the next logical step when your itty bitty pet dies?

Of course. A memorial service.

I ask Spencer where he wants to lay his roly poly to rest. "I think Daddy's grill is just the place!" So cremation, huh?

"Spencer, I don't think the grill is a good place to put your beloved roly poly in a plastic cup. It will burn and melt."

"No! I will remember and we will move it before Daddy grills next time!"

In the end, Mom's authority won out and we decided the roly poly would be better suite to the grass. Next to the porch where the grill is. :) with two sticks in the shape of a cross and a little roly poly in the grass.

Two days later, Spencer comes running to me. "Mom!! My roly poly is not dead anymore! He isn't where we left him!"

So, a lesson: a quarter inch roly poly lying in the grass is hard to find a few days later and then your son believes Jesus is not the only one who resurrected and walked away.



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An Update on the School Form

The email I sent to the pre-K office:

Hi Ms. *****,

I registered my son this morning for pre-K at **** Elementary.  I have a question/concern about one of the forms I filled out for him.

One of the very first forms asked what adults and children lived in the household, and how the children were related to the adults in question.  The choices were Natural, Foster, Relative.  I raised a concern there because my son was internationally adopted at age 2 and therefore does not fit any of those descriptors.  I was advised by a staff member to put Foster for the sake of the form, since "natural" was to be used to describe biological children. As an adoptive parent,  I feel like I should let you know the term "natural" is outdated and offensive, because it implies my adoptive children are somehow "unnatural." I am positive that [your school district] and your office do not mean that in that way, so I would like to encourage you to change the term from "natural" to "biological." It would be more accurate.  I also believe it would be wise to add "adoptive" as an option. My son has never been part of the foster system. I do not want that on his record or any form whatsoever. I did write in "adoptive" and also selected "foster" due to the direction of the staff member.  But as his information gets put into digital format, there is no way I want him labeled in ANY way as foster.  He is my legal son and I am his legal mother, and my name is listed on his birth certificate.  I would not hesitate to say that he is more my "natural" son than my "foster" son.  But if the question is, did I birth him? Then I would say, no, he is not my biological son. 

Please make the appropriate changes to his file. Also, I would ask you to please consider changing the form to better give families the opportunity to describe themselves.  Adding the "adoptive" option would be appreciated, or leaving the question open-ended may serve the purpose as well.

Thanks so much for your time and consideration.

And the response that came within the hour:

Thank you for sharing your concerns. It is certainly not our intention to offend in any way and apologize for doing so. We appreciate the feedback and will consider your recommendations. One of our specialist will contact you to provide more details as to how this can be resolved.  
We appreciate your interest in Pre-K and look forward to a great start.  

I also had a voicemail from the same lady who registered our documents that morning within the hour of sending that email. When I called her back (on her cell phone number!) she diligently changed Josiah's status (and Ella's too) in the system to "natural." I explained to her that as I had more time to think about it since coming home, natural is more accurate because in the eyes of the law he is identical to any biological child I may have. She was happy to honor my request and said I was not the first person who has brought up an issue with the form. She would pass along the request for form changes to the next person up.

Now, will the form change? I don't know. I hope so. But perhaps even one person's heart and mind was opened a little wider that day. I was thankful she was so kind and willing to listen to my requests. I know better now that is okay to challenge the system when it is wrong, but I always want to make sure I am doing it in respectful way, as I am representing my Jesus and adoptive families. Don't want to give either a bad name.

A friend sent me this picture from a school district in her state.





I'm challenged to "fight the good fight," as she said!

I Can't Check Any of These

Today I went to register Josiah for 4 year old Pre-K next year.  Unfortunately we did not get into our first choice (remember my letter to March when I said we received a letter he didn't get in and then a call that said he did and I cried happy tears and then another call that said just kidding, that was a mistake? Yeah.) Since then we have been trying to decide what the best second option was and we finally made a decision. So he will be attending public school pre-k, which is five days a week.  Which means it will be me and a baby during the day come August.  In case you don't understand the significance of this...I've never had just one kid at home with me!

The process of getting him registered included me bringing in 5 or 6 important documents and then sitting at a table for LITERALLY AN HOUR and filling out paperwork.  Actually 24 documents.  I had to fill out t-w-e-n-t-y-f-o-u-r pieces of paper.  That is a lot of times writing my name and his name and our address and everything he eats and his developmental skills and my husband's work number, etc.

One of the first pieces was just a general info sheet.  Part of that was listing everyone that lived in our home. (FYI: when you have five children, there are never enough spots on the "children/siblings" portion.) I had to list how each of the children in our home were related to us.  There were three choices (and I quote): N=Natural, F=Foster, R=Relative.

This is all fine and good.  I understand why a school system would want to know how each of the children living in a home are related to the adults living there.  In a city as large as this and in 2014, families are created a million different ways.  Homes are blended and mixed and people come to live together for a variety of reasons.  The school should know these things.  But, my friends, we don't fit any of these boxes.

Let's address this two part problem.
1. "Natural" - I'm sorry, do you mean "biological?" Because that is the accurate term.  All my children are "natural," meaning they are HUMAN. Birthed from a HUMAN. Not created in any "unnatural" way.  But you want to know if they are birthed from me? Then yes, "biological" is what you are looking for.

2. Where is "Adoptive" as an option???? - This one I just don't understand. It's a glaring, big fat hole. When I called the lady over to ask this OBVIOUS question, she said, "Oh, Natural is birthed. So you would put Foster."

Whoa, nelly. Slow that train right down.

"No. He's not my foster son.  He is my legal son.  I am his legal mother. Here is MY NAME on his birth certificate. There should be an A=Adoptive option. Can I write that in?"

"No, for the sake of this form you would put Foster," said the representative. "I understand your offense to that term because I have a heart for adoption. But here, since you did not birth him, you would write Foster."

I asked if I could write in Adoptive.  She said not for this form.  But it's no big deal, she said.

BUT IT'S NOT TRUE. For the sake of accuracy, "natural" is a better fit and more true than "foster." He is not and has not ever been under the care of the state.  They do not have authority over him. His legal and true parents do. Which would be Stuart and myself.

So...because I am a rule follower and rarely challenge authority (yeah, yeah) I wrote F and then wrote ADOPTIVE in the box. But now, several hours later, I feel like I need to address this further.  I need to contact the office and let them know it's time for changes. The form needs to be updated. Most likely, many people don't have any issue with the form.  But as an adoptive mother, I seriously do.  I do not want his information recorded in a computer system with "Foster." He has never been part of the foster system. Ever. He has a legal and forever family. Document that.

I'll keep you posted on how it goes down as I address the largest school district in the state and try to get them to change their paperwork.......ack!