It’s a Mother’s Day CONTEST!!!!

Come one.  Come all.  Step right up and enter to win a GRAND PRIZE for you or a mother dear to your heart this Mother’s Day.

What would every mother want?  A diamond ring?  No. (Could get lost while playing in the sand at the park!) A new MiniVan!  No. (Take it from my experience, after you hit someone in a minivan, they are not that great any more!)  A dozen roses! No (They wilt in no time, especially if you bought them at Walmart!)

Maybe something to bring joy to her heart.  Something to make her laugh…. and snort… and laugh some more!  Yes, you guessed it!  A Book!  YES!

Yes, a FREE autographed copy of my book Laughing in the Midst of Mothering!  Every mother you know needs a laugh!  This book can be yours (for your mom if you aren’t a mom) by merely entering your name in the comments section of this blog.

You have until May 5th midnight to enter.  On May 6th, after I sleep in, I will randomly draw one name from the list and announce the winner here on MSJ.  I will blast the name for all to see.  The winner will have 24 hours to contact me with an address for where to ship the book.  If person #1 doesn’t contact me, I will draw another name on May 7th.  :o)

Hello, My Name is Linda

Yes, this is another blog relating the to car accident that I unwillingly participated in 3 1/2 weeks ago.  A deep fog has permeated my brain for three weeks leaving me wondering what my childrens’ names are, grasping for common words like “ride” and “sit”, and feeling vulnerable and alone.  Yes, it is drugs.  Yes, I’ve written about this before when I was on narcotics for tooth pain.  I had forgotten the lonely drug induced blanket that wraps itself around your neck for days on end.  Finally, when I was thinking homeschooling was pretty well done for the year (with two more months to go) I went to visit my doctor.  Sorry, pupils.

Typically I am an in-control woman.  Administration is one of my gifts, as well as teaching, organizing and being sarcastic.  But I could do none of those while the blanket hugged me like a scratchy wool scarf.  Sitting on the tissue papered table at the physician’s office, I tried to explain in my not-usually-wobbly-voice that I am on an involuntary emotional roller coaster because of the drugs.  My voice never wobbles.  But it wobbled woefully.  “I need to gain control of my life again,” I feebly explained.  “Is there a pain medication that conquers pain but doesn’t leave people in this fog?”  And there is.  Thank God!  It’s in a 3-day patch that transdermally inputs the drug into your system at a consistently controlled rate.  No more roller coastering for me, baby.

I am now addicted to a little 3/4″ x 1″ plastic patch.  And I’m okay with that.  I was missing me.  I’m partially back.  Doing simple tasks like showering or making waffles are still followed up with a two hour nap.  But I’m okay with that too.  I know my limits.  It’s two outings per day… only twice or three times per week.  More than that and I break out in a sweat.

Hope returned yesterday when I broke out the botany text book and decided school would be underway once again.  It will be more self-guided than teacher-ruled, as is my persuasion.  Flowers and pollination will be devoured by my little busy bees for the next few weeks.  I even found an activity requiring powdered donuts to demonstrate cross-pollination.  Homeschooling rocks…. or blooms in this case.

The Worst Adoptive Mama on the Planet

Quietness and darkness have enveloped our home.  Only because it’s 4:35 a.m.  Our house is rarely quiet, rarely dark and rarely active at this time of the morning.  It has been one week since my car accident that has driven me to sleep on the couch (I couldn’t even THINK of climbing stairs for the first four days home).  And as much as I love sleeping with my husband, I love sleeping …. without fearing that he will kick my battered legs, bump my aching arms, yank the sheets against my seatbelt bruises on my neck or snore and make me crabby.  I’m starting to understand why my grandparents had separate rooms.  (Don’t worry, Honey, I’ll come back upstairs eventually.)  Aching arms woke me up in these wee hours… and it’s not time for the wonder drugs yet.  The fact that I can wait it out gives me hope that I’m not completely addicted to pain killers. Even in weariness, I have some level of self control.

My six year old habitual pastime of reading adoption blogs is still a passion of my soul.  It always will be.  Reading about a young couple tonight faced with infertility who have chosen a child in Ethiopia makes my adoptive mama heart beat with glee.  Another baby will have a mama.  Another daddy will cry tears of joy.  Another child will be placed by God and the nightmares might just fade a wee bit, making life a better place.  A safer place.

As an adoptive mama, I have had the normal adoptive mama fears that I am the worst adoptive mama on the planet.  I have cut off the Colombian princess from sugar at times, even sending her to bed with no cake!  Imagine!!!  I have sent her to her room when I couldn’t think of answering one more question about heaven.  I have not taken her to Disneyland.  I won’t buy her cute clothes just because they are cute, when her stuffed closet has more than enough.  I am sure I have been caught on surveillance tapes more than a dozen times in the Walmart parking lot saying, “We are not here to buy anything for you today.”  And I’ve wondered if she was in a different home, would she be granted more stuff and have more privileges.  I have expressed this self-doubt to other mamas and one in particular has told me again and again, “You are the perfect mama God chose for your girl.  She is in the right home.  You are the right mama. You are loving her just the way she needs to be loved.”  And it does my heart good for about three minutes and then the doubts return.

The before mentioned car accident was actually a glimpse into my “good adoptive mama” side that I needed to see.  The crash happened in the blink of an eye.  The air bags exploded.  Stinky smoke filled the van. And all I could think to do was jump out of my door which only opened half way to get to my nine-year-old baby in the seat behind me.  We hugged each other and balled our eyes out together.  She was not hurt.  I quickly realized that my legs were not fine and I was needing to sit back down.  Yes, the metal hitting metal sounds were ghastly and hurt our ears, but I believe what scared her the most was hearing me cry for the first time.  The ugly cry with snorts and uncontrollable guttural sounds. She kept reaching up and touching my shoulders in the front seat. Through the tears and pain, we bonded at a deeper level.

On my girl scout sash of life, I feel like I earned my “Unconditional Adoptive Mama Love” badge.  And my bruised body is a mere side effect of the stamp of approval on my heart.

RECESS!

Today we were having a bonafide homeschool debate between the evolutionists and the creationists.  Sadly, the creationists needed a bit more evidence and hard facts to substantiate their beliefs.  Despite a few deficiencies in preparation, there was deep discussion and questioning to be had.  We are studying the Grand Canyon and I was absolutely appalled at how the THEORY of evolution is presented as fact on so many websites….. primarily run by the government.  Sadly true.

Anyway, at the end of the debate the kids asked what activity we were doing next and I replied, “RECESS!”  A cheer rose up from seven of our eight pupils…. and then one little Colombian questioned, “What’s recess?”  Uproarious laughter followed.  Too funny, the things we take for granted in our knowledge of “real” school.  I’m all about this fake schooling because I am learning SO MUCH!

Several years ago, my son, who didn’t read until he was NINE years old, asked what school they would go to if anything ever happened to me.  I teared up thinking that my bright boy who was years ahead in math and science would have been labeled and most likely put in special education had he attended school.  Knowing how wiggly he is, I told him, “You wouldn’t like school, honey.  You have to sit in a desk ALL day long!”  His clear blue eyes widened and he whispered in awe, “You get a DESK?!?”  Nope, he had never seen the inside of a classroom before!

Long live homeschooling!  Poobah Poobah!

DRE-E-E-E-EAM, dream dream dre-eam

When you grow up, you assume your life is the normal life of all the other kids in the world.  When you get older, you realize just how non-normal your growing up actually was, well, compared to all the other non-normal lives you learn about as time goes on.  Confused yet?

All that to say, I grew up thinking everyone dreams in color.  I do.  Of course I’m not the weird one, am I?  Thanks to the internet, I have discovered that more than 80% of people dream in color.  Not so weird after all, thankyouverymuch.  Yet another fact caused me to pause and consider my abnormalness once again…. 95-99% of people forget their dreams. What?  Almost every night I have vivid dreams and can tell the tales of them the next day.  My children take great pleasure in asking me what I dreamt last night and then rolling on the floor holding their sides due to laughter induced dream tales.  Some dreams have stuck with me for years… for 24 years, in one case… like it was yesterday.  Some are so real that I write them down to ponder later.

While we were away at Christmas I had this great dream (that my children loved) about my husband wanting to redo the greenhouse (that we don’t have) on the back of the house (that we don’t live in).  He was all inspired and wanted to show me his plans, but he insisted the best view was from the neighbor’s back driveway.  The only glitch was that he was naked and I wasn’t walking outside with him.  I’m the modest one in the family, for goodness sakes alive, even in my dreams.  So he talked me into driving over to the neighbor’s back driveway in our station wagon with tasteful “wood” paneling on the sides.  He drove me over there and proceeded to do a 13 point turn in the little driveway until the car was facing our greenhouse (sideways on the driveway.)  But the inevitable happened and he backed up too far and we went down into the ditch and got stuck.  I told him I would climb out the window and go call AAA but he yelled, “You cannot call Triple A, I’m naked!”  And that was the end.  I did not find deep meaning in that dream.  I pray we never own that house or car!  But it WAS funny!

Sixteen years ago, after watching Father of the Bride 2, my husband decided we should move from Spruce Grove, Alberta to Phoenix, Arizona to be near my parents.  I whole heartily agreed.  We put the house on the market and prayed for a quick sale, it was winter after all. Then I had a dream about a lady coming to buy our house. I awoke quite relieved and explained in detail what she looked like to my husband. For ten long months, our house sat on the market and many people came to see it.  Every time I opened the front door, if it wasn’t the lady in my dream, I was disappointed.  Phoenix was calling my name, after all.  Finally one day she came.  I recognized her.  And she did buy our house.  Truly, I think God gave me the picture of her as a sign of hope that there was someone coming.  It gave me a measure of assurance.

Do you remember your dreams?

Nine More Days

My husband of 25.5 years and myself will leave our home on January 4, 2013 with a van stuffed full of college paraphernalia and our firstborn child…. to just drop her off in Oklahoma and run for the border.  It’s a first for our family.  Children leaving the nest.  Much preparation, turmoil, tears and rejoicing have gone into this event.  Way more turmoil than I originally anticipated for a college departure.

There are nine more days to teach her everything she needs to know for infinity and beyond.  That is the key right there that keeps me from losing it… again.  Infinity and beyond is what really matters.  Kingdom thinking.  Have we prepared our daughter (the one who once asked for scotch tape and a box of envelopes for Christmas) to love God and serve people?  That people are more important than things?  To build others up and give a helping hand?

Yes, she plowed through algebra and ancient world history… but that is knowledge and not necessarily wisdom.  Wisdom is what matters in life.  Proverbs says that we should seek after wisdom and that it is found in those who take advice.  And wisdom will save you from the ways of wicked men.

Yes, she can effectively run a household, hold down a job and save money… but it is her heart that matters.  Getting to this point with child number one has helped me focus with children numbers 2,3 and 4.  They will also make it through algebra and ancient world history… but I need to be an example of love to them no matter the circumstances.

My firstborn daughter and I watched Les Miserables in the theater in Mission, B.C., Canada last night.  My favorite line was “To love another person is to see the face of God.”  A GREAT movie to see before heading off to college.

(I can do this. I can do this.  I can do this.)

My Heart is STILL in Colombia!

It’s true.  We have been home from Cali, Colombia for 23 months with our little Colombian princess.  The adoption journey has had bumps and twists that we didn’t expect, but it has been so wonderful and rewarding.

Tomorrow is GOTCHA DAY number two!

TWO YEARS!!!  Hard to believe it has gone by so fast.  Sometimes our month in Colombia seems like forever ago… and sometimes it seems like last week.  I miss the lush greenness of Cali, the vast array of mystery fruits that were scrumptiously yummy, the glimpses of the Andes when the fog lifted, the bamboo forest we drove by to our villa, the coconut ice cream bars, the afternoon rain showers, the neighborhood boys who would come and ask,  “Is Austin Rick’s son?”, the sweet smell of the flowers, arepas filled white cheese, the stickiness of the night air and the pee-po pee-po LOUD evening serenade of the coqui frogs.

People often ask “Why Colombia?”  Quite a few factors lead us to the beautiful and tropical South American country.

1.) My husband, Rick, went to Valledupar, Colombia for a summer to build a church when he was 17-years-old.  He grew to love the warm-hearted people and the countryside teeming with unknown vegetation, never imagining that he would return to meet his daughter twenty-something years later.

2.) We have three bio kids who do not look like Rick AT ALL.  Ok, one does a little, but I was expecting little chubby, black-haired Indian babies when I married a Cree Indian.  Didn’t happen.  The Irish and Finnish genes dominated and we got two blonde-haired, blue-eyed kids and another slightly darker. So, when we had chosen an adoption agency, I looked through the pages for the countries they worked in….   I held up the two pages and announced to Rick, “El Salvador and Colombia are where the kids look like you.“  “Colombia,” he replied.  And it was a done deal.

3.) Not that I was anywhere near proficient, but I thoroughly enjoyed taking Spanish… back in the day.  Larisa also had Spanish courses and was mastering her second language quite nicely.  So a country in South America seemed familiar… somehow.  (Not distant in my mind, like, say, Kazakhstan… or China.) I related to Ellie from the movie UP…. her dream was to visit South America.  She tore pictures right out of a library book of the fascinating country.

I am as American as you could get.  I LOVE my country… the anthem brings me to tears.  Studying and teaching the history of our great land is a deep passion of mine.  But I have to say that my heart beats in thirds… a third for the USA, a third for Canada, where I spent my college years and the first 10 years of marriage, and now a third for Colombia where I fell in love with my daughter’s people and homeland.  My heart is still in Colombia. <3

Kings Canyon Camping Episode 3: GENERAL GRANT HIKE

GENERAL GRANT HIKE.   Day #3 brought sunny skies and temperatures in the 40s!  Whooo HOoooooOOOOooo!

During our stay at Kings Canyon there was a prescribed burn going on so the mornings and evenings were quite smokey…. which made for great sun ray pictures!

We took advantage of the clear weather and did the hike to the General Grant Tree which was a 1/2 mile from our campground.  This was our first glimpse of one of the BIG trees.  General Grant is the third largest tree in the world.  It started growing before the Egyptians built the pyramids.  Yes, it’s true.  Along the trail there were several fallen trees expanding our minds as to the enormity of these specimens.  In the middle of the trail the 7-year-old girl that was with us randomly announces to no one in particular, “This is a great place to shuffle” and proceeds to do the shuffle right there on the pine straw.  Priceless.

No, there will be no photo essay of General Grant…. my camera batteries died on this hike.  Bummer, dude.  But we did sit on the hill above Gen. Grant and broke out our nature journals and drew the immense fire scar on the tree’s back side.  While we sat there drawing, coloring and munching on beef jerky, groups of tourists came by from France.  We spoke with a few of them, but their English was about as good as our French.  About 90% of the people we met during our week stay were from France.  We still don’t know why….

Deer were plentiful in our campground and all around the parks.  These timid animals were not afraid of people or cars.  Sad.  Our girls were playing on the jumbo fallen log in the meadow behind our camp when a group of four deer came near.  The girls froze and whispered to each other as they watched the gentle animals graze.  Eventually one of the teenage boys yelled and the deer took off.  Nora had never seen deer run before.  She came scooting over to the camp and proclaimed, “Mom, they don’t run. They bounce!“  So cute!

Please stay tuned for the upcoming episodes of Kings Canyon Camping.

Kings Canyon Camping Episode 2: The BLUSTERY DAY & STUMP MEADOW

THE BLUSTERY DAY.  As the snow continued to fall, we realized our plans for the day had slowly drifted away, much like the snowflakes we were witnessing making their listless trek to the white ground below.  National Park solution #1: Visitor Center!  Yeehaw!  A roof, heated rooms, a movie, warm bathrooms with hot running water, etc. etc.  Off we went.  We took in a 20 minute movie about Kings Canyon with the three teenage boys reading the last word of every subtitle.  Did my homeschooling-mama-heart good. I taught those youngsters to read when they were wild, little, dirty whippersnappers.

The ten of us wandered the displays, felt the sharp blades of the 20 foot saw that was once used on the mammoth Sequoia trees, looked into bird nests, examined various sized pine cones and felt the bark of the enormous trees.  Much to our surprise, there was a beautiful educational room at the back of the center that we inhabited for several hours.  Our art boxes were brought in from the cars and we homeschooled in our socks in the shadows of three enormous paintings of the life zones we had studied.  Perfect!

Each of the wall murals was abounding in animals and plants of each zone.  The kids had made diorama boxes of these exact scenarios and they recollected many of the flora and fauna.

Postcards were purchased, written, stamped and sent home to various recipients whose addresses we knew by memory. We ate granola bars and cheese sticks.  Of course, we also did the booklets for the Jr. Ranger Program!  What would a trip to a national park be without doing a word find puzzle???  We learned about backpacking canisters for bear-safe food storage… see the black can?

As the natives got restless, we had wheelbarrow races and then we played charades in teams with National Park dice.  No one will ever forget Austin’s portrayal of a space ship complete with noises… because we are all familiar with the sounds made by alien flying saucers.

STUMP MEADOW.  After lunch, the snow had turned to rain and then to mist, allowing us to venture out and see a bit of the park.  Our first stop was Stump Meadow where hundreds of the BIG trees were harvested in the 1850s.  You can’t quite grasp the vastness of this area from a picture, but I offer my feeble attempt.

All eight of our children fit into the fire scar of this big stump with room to spare.  We have been reading My Side of the Mountain and the sequel The Far Side of the Mountain about Sam Gribley who, at 15,  moved from NYC to the hills and made a giant Hemlock his home.  Every time we saw a new BIGGER stump or hollowed-out tree the kids would claim, “This one will be my home!”

One last photo for you which I titled “The Little Colombian and the Giant Tree.”  Yes, Nora is standing there at the bottom, but I couldn’t back up far enough to get the top of the tree in the picture.  They are BIG.

Please stay tuned for the upcoming episodes of Kings Canyon Camping.

Kings Canyon Camping Episode 1: The ARRIVAL & FIRST MORNING

THE ARRIVAL.  Driving the supposed 10 hours and 21 minutes from Phoenix, AZ to Kings Canyon National Park, CA was almost uneventful with the exception of the swaying tent trailer that required only 60 MPH, the unfindable Visalia Costco that was a Walmart (seems that Costco moved to a new building and didn’t tell Mapquest), and the Park Ranger who said the showers were closed for winter. He was mistaken much to my relief after the 13 hour trip with two crazy moms and eight kids.

We arrived at Azalea Campground with about 90 minutes of sunlight to spare.  Every camper was in motion getting tents set up, wood hauled, food in bear boxes, fire built, trailer leveled, etc.  THEN, being a mom, I went to the closest bathroom building that was just a hop, skip and jump from our campsite, only to find out that it was also closed for winter.  GAH!  Next time we will check bathrooms BEFORE we unpack and set up camp.  So, much exercise was had ALL week hiking the hill to the open bathroom facility.

We tucked ourselves into chilly sleeping bags and beds, turned the propane heater to low in the trailer and snuggled in for a cozy night.  My night time camping routine might seem needlessly silly to some, but it works for me.  Wool socks with sweat pants tucked into them. Long sleeve t-shirt tucked into the sweat pants to halt drafty freezing breezes.  Long sleeve flannel jammie shirt.  Long sleeve red Mickey Mouse hooded sweatshirt with drawstring hood that is tied down to a small circle that only reveals my nose and mouth.  And earplugs.  And hand warmers…. I hold them in my hands until they are toasty, then I put the little bags of comfy warmth into my socks for the night.  BAM!  Arizona woman sleeps in a thin tent trailer at 6,500 feet in October in comfort.

THE FIRST MORNING.  My initial recollection was that there was daylight instead of darkness unlike the other 42 times I awoke during the night. My nose told me that it was chilly out….. really chilly.  Next, an early riser who had already departed from the tent trailer cheerily yelled, “It’s snowing!”  Turning over and snuggling down deeper into my warm nest, I closed my eyes and groaned, “Nooooooooooooooooooooooo!”  But it was true.  Weather.com had predicted only a 40% chance of rain or light snow.  They were 60% wrong.

One of the books that I read to my children in preparation for this trip was about Johnny and Teddy (John Muir and Theodore Roosevelt) titled The Camping Trip that Changed America.  Mr. Muir took the President camping in Yosemite to raise his awareness of the vast and enormously beautiful landscape that needed protection and the National Parks were born.  The two men awoke to a snow covered valley below them and Teddy Roosevelt proclaimed it the “best day of my life!”  The President’s joy was his alone as I did not share his feelings upon seeing snow while camping in the Sierra Nevadas, but I was glad for the experience for my city-slicker kids.  Every kid should camp in the snow ONCE! Simply to say they did…. and lived to tell the story.

Banana pancakes have never tasted quite as delectable as they did that cold cold inaugural morning of our week’s stay at Kings Canyon.

Please stay tuned for the upcoming episodes of Kings Canyon Camping.