Picture Pages

(There are a BUNCH of photos at the end... read on, dear friends!)

When I was a kid (a lot of years ago... clearly)...
Bill Cosby did "Picture Pages" on TV.
You could beg/plead/cry/whine/stomp/remind your parents to call the special phone number and order your OWN set of Picture Pages with the special marker, so that you could play along with Bill Cosby at home.
I doubt I had the official Picture Pages at my house.
(reminder: your child's life will not be permanently altered if you do not give in to every item on their ever-changing wish list.
I'm fine.
I believe I only have mild long-term trauma from my lack of Picture Pages and Mortimer marker.)

I still remember the song... and I can picture Bill standing there, talking to us all about drawing the picture together. This is only slightly higher up on my Bill Cosby memories than Pudding Pops. (ahhh, pudding pops... I loved them so much. I loved the sheet of ice on the sides and especially the swirl ones since no one else liked those and I could have them all!)

Because I know you can't stand it... here ya go: Picture Pages with Bill Cosby on YouTube

Click... watch... enjoy.

Clearly, I survived my lack of Mortimer The Marker in my childhood experience.
I do remember freaking out one Christmas because whatever I had asked my grandparents for had been given to me, and my sister got a Cabbage Patch doll... which, obviously, was the more awesome choice of the two items... and I know they went out and got me a Cabbage Patch doll also.
(*insert "spoiled brat" comment by my sister HERE*)

My kids have gone without a lot of the THINGS that their friends have over the years.
Frankly, I'm certain their lives are no less meaningful because I never bought them Heeley's or a Blizzard machine... or whatever toy they are selling on TV this month.

People are always asking me how we afford having such a big family.
I usually give them my line about "children aren't expensive - lifestyles are."... but frankly, I want to roll my eyes and say "do you think we live like everyone else around us??"
We aren't going out to lunch after church each Sunday.
We aren't sending our kids to school with laptops or iPads.
We don't buy 10 pairs of new shoes for each kid every time their feet grow .5 inch.
Our yard looks like CRAP.
We don't hire yard people or house cleaners or a laundry fairy (*sob*)...
and we don't throw birthday parties with clowns and ponies and limo rides.
Sure... we like to lavish "things" on our children just like the rest of you...
but we have to be very choosy and thrifty with our lavishing. (thrifty lavishing?)
I have a mental list of some items the kids like individually.
One loves a certain type of dried fruit bar...
one loves those special water drinks.
Another likes mini-wheats cereal...
and another likes anything neon yellow.
When I can fit those things into the budget, I get them.

Sometimes it's something bigger... like our annual trip to Beech Bend Park in Kentucky.
When we decided to make this an annual trip on Labor Day, we had a normal sized family that fit into a standard mini-van. Now?? Well... we pack lunch, beg everyone around us for their BOGO coupon from the school fundraiser book... and hope we can figure out the entrance price with our budget.

We get memberships to places... that's our family-fun day. The zoo, the aquarium, other local fun places... the membership for a year is way cheaper than one day's entrance for us... and it gives us something to do that's basically free for the rest of the year!

Of course I'd love to buy our kid the iWhatever they want for their birthday. Of course I'd like to throw the 11th birthday party of the century for all her friends. Those things don't change just because your family size outstretches your ability to purchase anything on a whim.

But.....
you know what else I know?
Those kids who DID get the special Mortimer Marker and all the Picture Pages books...
all that stuff is long gone.
And their memories of that stuff... are memories of sitting in front of a TV screen and "playing" with a 2D person.

Our kids' memories may be less "spendy"...
but they will be full of PEOPLE not things.

Yes... that's our SON in the bottom center. Crazy kid...

I'm told all these tiny braids are a great fine motor activity. Ouch.

Assembly line

Building with Dad.

Hiding in plain sight

Just before bed... her last night of being 6 years old!

Crazy Bus

Aquarium... before the day-of-fun.

We scare people.

Pretty girls!

You can touch the scary fish... if you'd like to.

Fish whisperer.

Sweet boys

Posing by the Penguins

Carousel at Beech Bend Park

I promise they were having fun...

My little Vikings

This is the happiest 3 year old I know!

 Sorry, Bill.
Even eating Pudding Pops WHILE doing Picture Pages couldn't top these kinds of memories.
(but maybe if I had a Mortimer Marker too.) 
(no, not even with a Mortimer Marker.)

Just stuff...

It's late. I should be sleeping.
My children will begin to wake up in 5 hours and 25 minutes.
But who's counting?

However, as is the case a lot of nights... I can't sleep.
My favorite person travels for work and when he's gone I hear things that aren't there, work myself through my worst-case-scenario-survival-plans (Fire Alarm going off at 2am. Exits on the 1st floor are blocked. How will you and 12 children escape? Answer... shimmy down basketball pole in the back yard, or use children as a human ladder, or call 9-1-1 and wait. Or, attempt all of the above.) or read until I fall asleep mid-paragraph.

I was just thinking tonight about how I never would have imagined my life looking like this.
I saw that cute picture of all the kids lined up youngest to oldest on the top of my blog page and I thought "wow, I remember looking at blogs of families with a bunch of kids like this and thinking... that is one STRANGE group of people!"
Just keeping it real, yo.
And now, here I am... with a dozen children.
When I was 15 I told my mom I was NEVER having children.
Clearly, I do not have the gift of prophesy.

People keep giving us stuff. 
Bags of really nice clothing, shoes, fun little extras like costumes for play...
a big fish tank for my oldest's scary snake (he's too big for his current home... shiver)...
some fun craft things that someone thought our kids might enjoy (and no evil glitter!)...
a desk for one of my kids' bedrooms...
a previously used, but still very cool, desktop computer...
books...
school supplies...
backpacks...
I mean, really. Sometimes we look at the numbers and wonder how in the world it's all going to work out... and then we are able to provide things for our children that we never thought we could, because someone dropped if off on our porch!

We are super conspicuous.
Yeah, I know... I should be used to this...
but sometimes I forget.
I forget how we look different to a lot of people.
I forget that we don't "match".
But then I notice people staring... and frankly, I don't know if they are staring at my awesome rain boots (they are bright blue and lovely)... or because we have so many kids tagging along at whatever event... or because a gorgeous Ethiopian baby girl in a tutu just called me "MOMMY!!"
Or, maybe they aren't looking at us and I'm just becoming paranoid.

My Babycakes business has been doing really well! I'm very excited about this because my goal was once to just have some spending money, then it became our adoption fundraiser, then it became the birthdays/holidays fund... and now I'm hoping to actually pay some bills out of that money! I can't believe something I wasn't even sure I wanted to sell... a hair and body product I invented for my kids... could now actually be helping us financially! It's such a blessing to me that people re-order and tell their friends about Babycakes!!

I have a few really sweet women in my life who "get" me. They listen to me tell my stories, tell me their stories, laugh with me about my movie and tv show references, and make me laugh with their random Friends quotations. They text me something to make me laugh, commiserate about homework assignments, and let me be part of their lives. I'm so thankful to have a few friends like this who will meet for coffee after the kids go to bed and help me feel like a human again!

I think that's about all for now... sorry for the random pile of thoughts... more cohesive blog post another day!
 

Check out my new cubbies!

My husband built these for the hallway by the laundry area! Aren't
they FABULOUS?!! Everyone gets their own color towel, a cup with their
own toothpaste and toothbrush inside. I put the boys' combs in their
cubbies and the two oldest girls have a brush and other hair things in
their cubbies.
Someday when I have unused/overflowing creative juices I plan to put a
photo of each kiddo over their cubby!
I just love these! Thanks, honey!!
("cubby"... it's a weird word.)

Calling the NOT called.

Shocking statement:

NOT everyone is called to adopt.

Some in the adoption-advocacy world would have you think

that every family should add to their numbers through adoption. 

I find that a dangerous statement to make.

Adoption is HARD.

It's not for everyone.

 There are situations, circumstances, dynamics

that shouldn't be messed with.

Sure, I read my bible.

I know what it says about

"defending the cause of the fatherless"

and 

"help widows and orphans in their distress".

But I can't find in my Bible the idea that 

"adopting a child makes you more Christian"

because it doesn't.

Of all the orphans in the world 

only 4% are under the age of 5 years old.

Did you know that?

I know I didn't when we first thought about adoption. 

I pictured snuggly babies in fuzzy blankets.

Apparently, that's the exception rather than the rule.

Older child adoption is HARD.

Kids come with their own sense of "right" and "wrong".

They have survived more than most Americans will ever witness, 

much less actually experience.

They are stubborn and define "strong willed child".

They can act out.

They can make you want to rip out all of the hairs on your head by the roots.

They machine gun attack you with questions when you just need a moment of quiet

to have your first cup of coffee.

They think they know EVERY thing there is to know about EVERYTHING.

You EARN their love.

They don't freely give it away.

But if you're lucky enough to earn it..

it's a beautiful thing.

Sometimes I get a glimpse of the fear and desperation 

that inhabits the hearts of my "older" children.

It reminds me that while NOT ALL are called to adopt personally,

we really need to rally around those who are.

This is not rookie stuff.

 This isn't just a pile of junk.

These are the treasures of a 6 year old boy.

These things are under his mattress. This is half of his stash.

Most of the items I gave him when we met in January of this year.

A notebook, photo albums, a pencil pouch...

a magazine from Ethiopian Airlines, a loose picture of his brother,

church papers, a bible, a gold medal from our Kidlympics.

He stores away his treasures.

He sleeps on top of this lumpy mess every night.

He keeps it safe. 

Someday he won't feel the need to save everything he has.

Someday he will feel safe enough to let some things go.

That day is not today.

It's only been 4 1/2 months.

I have a friend  who is advocating on behalf of a special pair of children.

She met them personally in Ethiopia and she's helping them get home.

They have a family who is coming for them

when many others wouldn't.

"but they are SO old!"

"wow... what about previous abuse? would it even be SAFE?"

Faith is hearing the thing you're supposed to do

and believing that the Lord who calls you wants what is best for your life

and trusting Him to lead you into the best.

Sweet brother and sister pair who have been given their heart's desire: a family coming for them.

 Nope...

not everyone could take on these two.

Not everyone should.

But if you personally feel that the Lord has blessed you

so that you can be a blessing to others

I know a family who would greatly treasure

any sort of donation to their adoption fund.

They are under a time crunch to get the money needed to continue 

their pursuit of these two sweet faces.

Here's the link if you want to help bring them home:

Help Helen & Habtamu Home!
(click then scroll down to "Helen and Haptamu found their family!")
 I'd prefer "Helen and Haptamu's family found them..." alas.

Could you donate and tell them you believe in them?

Could you toss a few dollars into their bucket and tell them it's going to be okay?

Could you tell them you'll put their names on your fridge and pray for them because you know there will be hard stuff... but you'll hold up their arms through it all?

Could you encourage them as they armor-up for the journey ahead?

I'd appreciate it.

And as for us?

Our "older kids" are learning and growing and doing some amazing stuff!

Just last night I helped our 8 year old son with his 3rd grade homework.

He's been in America for 4.5 months and he's sounding out words and learning to read!

It's amazing.

I'm humbled and blessed to get to be a small part of this.

Sixteen.

Late summer 1996.

We were a couple of kids playing house in a little apartment.

I was a 19 year old mommy-to-be and he was my adorable, doesn't-look-old-enough-to-drive hubby.

Sporting a giant belly with the rest of my body following that leader.

Stifling summer heat, a pitiful apartment maintenance man constantly on call to fix the A/C that could NOT get cold enough. 

Typical first-baby style: several false alarms, tears and "I'm going to be pregnant FOREVER!!", and sweet family lovingly reminding me "no one was ever pregnant forever".

August 19th, 8lbs, 2oz of cute chubby baby goodness was born.

A little girl becomes somebody's Mommy.

A big strong tough guy becomes a Daddy.

We become a family and were forever changed.

Colic and diapers and spit-up and wardrobe changes.

Couch naps with him on my chest, feeling him hiccup - but, on the outside this time.

Vacuuming while bouncing with him in the snuggli attached to my chest - every.single.night. starting at 9pm. Because otherwise he would just cry and scream.

First-time mommies learn a lot by trial and error.

First-time mommies learn about boy stuff like peeing across the kitchen while uncovered during a bath.

Little baby boys get bigger. They grow and they grow and they learn to walk. They grow some more and learn to run and jump over big things and climb trees and make their mommy nervous. Very nervous. 

The first time he got hurt and bled... I cried too.

The first day of Kindergarten...I cried too.

I was the first mommy waiting outside that day... because I just couldn't stand the thought of him walking out of the school on his first day and not seeing me standing there. 

Now, that sweet baby boy is sixteen.

He has turned the corner into becoming a big tough guy, too.

I struggle with this change.

I still look at him and see that scar from the first big ouchie - with rushing to the doctor and getting super glued back together.

I still look at him and hear him singing "Tinkle, tinkle, widdle staww!"

And yet, he's pulling farther away. 

He hardly even needs me anymore, you know.

I've taught him all about being independent... washing his laundry, letting him burn stuff in the name of learning to cook, ironing his own stuff. And now, he is mostly independent.

And I'm looking back on these 16 years and screaming at the hourglass to 

JUST STOP FOR A FEW MINUTES!! REALLY! ENOUGH!!

He's such a great kiddo...

I mean, young man.

We hear all the time how wonderful he is.

He's funny and kind and well-liked...

and he's polite to the neighbors and adults in our lives.

He loves the little kids in the house like they've been here forever

and that's just not such a common thing for a teenager who went from being oldest of 4 to oldest of 12 in a matter of 20 months. 

He's wonderfully uncommon.

And I suppose it's nearing the time when I'll have to share him with the world.

The day will come when he will pull out of the driveway with a bunch of stuff and go start his life away from the shelter of our home. 

And I'll still picture him with a head full of golden brown curls, snuggling up in his Daddy's lap eating cookie dough and watching VeggieTales. 

Because, now that I've got 16 years of experience at this, I know...

that's what Mommies do.

I love you, kiddo.

(P.S. You'll ALWAYS be my baby boy.)