It's Not Easy Being Green.

We're walking through The American History Museum. They've moved the modern history items into a bigger wing. I see Kermit the Frog in his glass cube.

There was a young man kneeling in front of him. Whatever, DC is weird. A few minutes later Bre wanted to see Kermit. The young man was still there. My mom told Bre not to stand in front of people reading the signs. The young man said "That's okay, I've been here for an hour." Hmmm.

 I walked around looking at the other items. I kept glancing back towards this young man. Even kneeling I could tell he was very tall and thin. He had a fake dyed Mohawk and gauged earrings. Not the typical person you would see staring at Kermit the Frog. Finally I sucked up my shyness and walked over to him. I knelt down next to him. He was so tall I only came up to his shoulder. I had to ask.

I said "My best friend loves stories. If she knew I saw a young guy staring at Kermit and didn't ask his story, she would smack me. So, do you have a story with Kermit?"
He said "Yes, he's my hero." I said "Kermit is your hero?" He said "Yes, he taught me how to live and made me who I am, he's my hero."

I thanked him and walked away. A few minutes later his group of rag-tag friends collected him and off they walked. I had to think about this young guy. Kermit was his hero. Kermit who accepted himself as he was. It wasn't always easy to be himself, be he was, he was a green frog and made the best of what he had. So this guy, who outside of this situation, I would have never spoke to really gave me something to dwell on. Do I make the best of what I am? Of what I have been given in life? Do you? I sure hope so.

Drowning.

I feel like we're all drowning. The ocean is pounding us. Wave after wave after freaking wave. And I'm so sick of it. The damn ocean needs to get a grip. We're just drowning.

My friend had to give birth to a child she couldn't take home. After 36 weeks. She went home with empty arms.

Another family is fighting with everything they have to get to Eastern Europe to save their sweet Hasya, who at 14 weighs 14 pounds. To save one. One of hundreds, maybe even thousands, of children who are shipped off to institutions at the at age of four. FOUR. If they have any 'defect' they are sent away. Kept alive, but nothing more. Changed once a day, living life in a crib. And it costs thousands upon thousands of dollars to save just one.

My friends husband has been in the hospital for over two weeks from severe burns. He'll have months of therapy. Thousands of dollars in medical bills. They have five young kids. He's so active and  is being tethered to a bed.

My friend's husband has left them in violent turmoil. She's doing all in her power to survive. She's so strong.

My friend's home is being foreclosed on. They can't figure out why her husband is having seizures. Her daughter has CHD. There are constant health scares.

As for us. Our foster care roller coaster isn't nearly over. After a few weeks at a peak we are once again thrown into the valley. Most of the time I feel like there's not even a safety rail.

So, basically I'm sick of the storms and the waves and the damn roller coasters. I'm on my knees begging for peace for my friends who are my family and myself. Begging for life raft.

Birth Mothers Day.

I wanted to say a word about Birth Mothers. Did you know the Saturday before Mothers Day is Birth Mothers Day? It was create by a group of women in 1990 that wanted to honor their choice to hand their child over to another.

I know one birth mother, she is strong and amazing and beautiful. She did what was best for her child. I can't say enough kind things about her.

I know my best friend. She was adopted. Her birth mother gave her to another. She is poetic, a wordsmith, and determined to change the world. I couldn't imagine my life without her!

Then there's my life. I have children that I didn't give birth too. Both Mothers Day and Birth Mothers day are odd around here. I love my two little blonde babies. They didn't grow within my body. They are my children. M's mother is nothing short of a monster. Ladybug's mother walked away. Just packed her bags and walked away. They didn't do what was best for the children. They didn't think and make the hard choice.

However, they are their birth mothers. They did give birth to them. They did grow them. They did make the choice for life for them. Without them, I wouldn't have my little loves. I wouldn't be rejoicing over future adoptions. I wouldn't be covered in 24M clothes and size 4 diapers. I wouldn't have appointments coming out of my ears. I wouldn't have therapists appearing at my house. I wouldn't have giggles and hugs and drooly kisses. I wouldn't know them.

So what do I do? I can't send them cards. I can't speak to them. I can't even thank them. I want to though, but how do I say, "wow, you treated them terribly and abandoned them, thanks." Without them I wouldn't have my babies. So in some weird twisted way, I say thank you. Thank you for at the very least, choosing life for them. They are loved and cherished.

Guest Post.

I was asked to write a guest post over at I Muse Be Trippin'. The title was How Foster Care Has Changed Me.

This is such a loaded topic.  We became foster parents nearly three years ago.  We have three wonderful sons, but I dreamed in purple and bows.  We decided to take the training to become foster parents.  After a few trainings and our home study, we got our first foster placement.  We didn't even have our license in our hands yet.  Despite being told we only wanted a girl, the van door slid open to reveal a baby boy.  Right then, I was changed.

Want to read the rest? Head over to I Must Be Trippin' and let me know what you think! Happy Sunday Night!!!!

The Van is Full

Our new van is full. When both adults are in it, the van is full. That should tell me something. I laugh to myself when I think that our old Suburban seats 8 and the van only seats 7. I do love looking in the rear view mirror and seeing full seats!

Everything is moving along nicely with both M and Ladybug! Ladybug is progressing so well, tiny improvements, but nice and steady. M is a teething mess. I'll be happy when those evil eye teeth come in, I'm sure he will be too! He's taking a few steps on his own.

The boys are doing well. Sam is turning into a wonderful big brother. Sam and M are sharing a room, he's becoming very helpful! Shane and Jackson are now sharing a room and loving it. There's not very much space, but they always slept together anyway, now it's official.

I'm watching my calendar fill up before my eyes. Ladybug had quite a bit of therapy sessions and many specialist to visit. We're still working on her health issues, but it's taking time.

So while my van and calendar are full, my heart is even fuller.