Thoughts on Adoption

Being pregnant, I’ve been reading a lot about babies and pregnancy and adoption. Not that adoption is for me. I am looking forward to being a mom again. However, as I browse through articles and YouTube videos, I cannot help but to read and soak in some of the information I’m seeing about adoption and form my own opinions.

First of all, I think adoption is an amazing thing. Anyone who puts their baby up for adoption should be commended.  They didn’t want the baby, cannot take care of it or cannot afford it. I’m sure there are other reasons but I assume those are the top ones. People put up their babies because it’s for the best interest of the baby. Or both baby and mom. What are the alternatives to adoption if you don’t want to keep the baby? Well, just look in the news. Mothers abandon their babies, don’t take care of them properly, abuse them, and sometimes kill them. It’s heartbreaking, that’s why I think that anyone with enough courage to put their baby up for adoption for whatever reason you have, should get a big pat on the back.

I’m assuming the emotional battle with that though is the “hope” that your baby has a better life than you could provide. “I hope a great family adopts the baby”, “I hope the baby has many options in life”. Etc.…

On a second note: After doing some light research about orphanages, it’s apparent to me that orphanages in America are amongst the best in the world. In Ethiopia, women often relinquish their children due to the fact that they cannot feed them. Even older children are put into orphanages. Which hurts my heart because even though they will likely get slightly better care, I wonder what is going through those little kids minds? In a few documentaries, it was proved that in many of the overseas orphanages, the children had very poor hygiene. Including not brushing their teeth, hair, changing diapers regularly, showering regularly, and taking proper medications when needed. And although children are fed in these homes, it’s often not much more than they would get if not in the orphanage.

In Romania, there was a study done on the dramatic effect on brain development with children in orphanages. Many children are kept in a crib for the first year with no visual stimulation (or otherwise). They are deprived of the physical bond that is so crucial to development. The children in these circumstances lack the ability to form a relationship over time and will often self-harm. In almost every documentary you see about orphanages overseas, it appears that the children are raised almost as you’d raise cattle.

In China, families can only have 1 baby. Most families (women) prefer to have boys because it is believed that once the child is older, he will stay, take care of his family, and carry on the family name. It is believed that girls will grow up, get married, and move away. Because of this, many women in China give their newborn girls up for adoption, abandon them, or kill them. If a family has more than one baby and chooses to keep it, they are charged a very high fine from the government. This kind of population control could go awry in the future. Already, there are 75% boys in the schools. What happens 15 years from now? All of these children are grown and there are not enough girls to marry to every boy. Does this mean that there may be a threat to the girl’s safety as they get older? Is there a possibility of women being kidnapped, abused, raped, etc.…? More so than what already happens?

Because of all of the red tape in adoption, over the last 5 years, children adopted into the US has dropped about 50%. As I talked to a few of my friends about this, their opinion was, “Good, there is plenty of children right here in the US that need help. Let’s help our own children first!” This is a very understandable point and one that I will not criticize. Now, this is just my opinion…but children are children. PERIOD! No matter where in the world they are. They need love, stability, and family. I personally feel that people who are looking to adopt should adopt the neediest children. Be it children/babies overseas that are starving or malnourished or have been in a home for a few years or special needs children. Even older children. It is a fact that most adoptive parents want babies. What about the toddlers and older? Are they destined to just stay in state homes and orphanages? In addition, what is the effect of not having constant love from a family? Hugs, kisses, physical connections, and bonds. Those are foreign concepts to many of the children I speak of.

The problem is, adoption can be, and often is a long drawn out process. This is especially true in overseas adoptions. So much is involved. It’s a simple process but a complex journey at the same time.

•First adoptive parents need to contact an agency and choose a country to adopt from

•Then you fill out the application and pay the application fee

•Many people have to go to educational classes about raising an adopted child

•Home studies are done along with interviews and physical evaluations

•They scrutinize your medical records, bank statements, tax returns, birth certificates, marriage license, references, employment and family history.

•There’s more paperwork

•You need to get passports if adopting from another country. Fingerprinting and FBI background checks.

All of this before you get a referral to a child. Then, you will fill out more forms so that the US can evaluate whether or not this child qualifies to be adopted.

•Paperwork is reviewed. In which is a process that takes months and in some cases, years to complete. Even after all of that, there is a lot of red tape and paperwork after the adoption.

Some people, I mean great families that could provide the world to a child in need, often are not able to adopt. It makes me wonder how celebrities can get through this process so quickly and so often.

It seems to me that with any adoption, the process could be sped up a bit. And it should be. Why not try to get these kids into the homes of great loving families as quickly as possible? I still stand by my original opinion about adoption from all sides being a great idea. I just think that the process needs to be revamped and many people need to stop being so close-minded about just wanting babies or just wanting American babies. This post is not intended to scare anyone who is thinking about putting a baby up for adoption. However, I do know that if you choose adoption for you baby, you can work through an agency and actually PICK who your baby goes to. This is very helpful because this could totally bypass your baby from ever having to go to foster care or an orphanage. Additionally, don’t condemn or criticize people for adopting babies from overseas. Regardless of where the child comes from, it’s obvious that he or she needs a family and love. Congratulate the person for having the courage to go through everything they did to help a child in need and accept it into their family as one of them.

I was watching this standup act from Sarah Silverman yesterday and she talked about how a woman was sitting there breastfeeding her baby with 4 other kids all running around her and she was talking about puppies and about how people should always get their puppies from a shelter instead of a breeder. And Sarah Silverman said, “You should get your people from a shelter. They do have “People puppies!” I thought it was funny and thought I would share.

Till next time…

The Single Life...

So, I mentioned to my friends that a new blog post was coming about what it means to be single and as I stayed up late the last few nights thinking about it…I have no idea what being single means. I know what it means to ME but I’m sure that my contortion of the definition of the word is by no way accurate to what it should mean.

So far, being single has been somewhat lonely. Of course, I have my boys that keep me busy and occupy my free time and I have to say, I love that! It seems that my “single life” is all about being a mother, busting my hump at work, doing schoolwork, and cleaning. Any free time I get is spent mindlessly browsing Facebook, reading other people’s happenings. It is lonely. I’ve had a significant other for the past 15 years of my life, nonstop. It was as if I jumped from one failed relationship into another, and it’s not that I want a relationship right now. Quite the opposite actually. I could list a plethora of things that I “miss” but really, those things are just ideas of what I wish I had. A companion. Someone to confide in and appeal to. Someone appealing to me. For so many years, I have been in this relationship struggle that consisted of nothing desirable or intimate but rather degrading and fraudulent. I miss the things I never had and that is what makes this time so lonely. There is this part of me that wants to find someone to fill the lonely times but I have to confess, those lonely times only come at night when the kids are asleep and I’m up by myself. I feel so isolated, deserted, and cut off from humanity. In these moments, I’m solitary. Abundantly hollow and thoughtless.

When I think of being single, I think of freedom. Yes, I can go to the store without an accusation or fight. I can give googley eyes to some stranger I think is stunning. I can give the guy at church my phone number. I can have male friendships. I can call up that old “friend” at 2AM…I can make my own decisions whether they are good or bad. The choice is mine. I like that.

Now, I’m not saying that being single means whoring around but come on, everyone wants companionship at some point, be it lasting or temporary. What is so wrong with that? It’s liberating. Its like eating a ham sandwich every day for years and years and one day, a pastrami on rye comes along and it looks so delicious an smells so good. Well, if you’re out of ham (single), why not have some of that pastrami? You don’t have to commit to eating the whole damn sandwich but nobody ever said that there was anything wrong with eating half of it. Eat what you want and put the rest aside for later. Who knows, you may want more later. I’m not looking for a different kind of ham. I want the “partner in life” kind of sandwich. The Philly cheese steak of relationships. But now that the ham is gone, the pastrami will certainly do for now. Do you catch my drift or is my food metaphor just a rambling of my hungry stomach making me not make any sense at all right now? Anyway, I’m just saying that there is no reason to live life like a nun or a monk just because you don’t have anyone specific in your line of sight.

Being single isn’t bad. It’s just a state of being. I guess it means something different to everyone. It has helped me gain independence and a sense of self. It surely revealed a different side of me that I was never sure was there. It revealed a girl who is sure of herself and knows what she wants and is determined to get what she wants. I care less about what other people think and more about how I perceive myself. Being single helped me to understand ME. So far, it has helped me realize that I DO know what I want, eventually. Right now, I’m content being single and free. Uncontrolled and lively. I’m content calling that guy from my past up at 2AM on some random night…to help me clean my kitchen or fold laundry. I’m content having open options. I’m content being single. Be it lonesome or not, it’s fun and unhampering. I can capture small moments of life that I couldn’t before. It’s deliverance into a new state of being. The feeling IS of seclusion and informality but it’s a feeling that one needs to learn to cope with and manage.

Being single isn’t bad. I embrace it. Sovereignty without lies. I don’t want it all right now. I need nothing but what I have at this very moment, my two little boys who lay sleeping beside me. I have no need for any of my “wants”. I am satisfied and grateful for the minimal entities that I have. Which reminds me of a Socrates quote I read years ago that stuck with me……

Worthless people live only to eat and drink; People of worth eat and drink only to live.

Which to me translates to…I need only what I have because I’m happy and alive. I eat and drink only to live and lead a happy life.

Bald Chicks

Today I made a comment to all of my friends about sponsoring me for my St. Baldricks endeavor. I assumed that everyone knew what I was talking about so I left my comment at that. Very vague and minimal. I have had a lot of questions asked. So, I decided to go into more detail about this topic.

I first have to say that I have a friend who once peddled her “charity” to me and all of her friends, enticing them to donate to her cause and to help her out. I was aggravated at the request to donate money to her cause but I did it anyway. I thought, “Why are you asking your friends for money for YOUR cause?” Donate the money yourself. Now I understand.

Two years ago, I was at work and when I went on break, I saw a pamphlet for “St. Baldricks”. I wondered what it was and asked my coworkers. They told me that someone else from my job was raising money to help fund childhood cancer research and in the process, they were going to shave their head. I thought that was ridicules, but cool. So I did my research. I thought to myself, “I would totally shave my head if it helped someone or something.”

So here it is, that is exactly what St. Baldricks is all about. Volunteers decide to raise as much money as they possibly can. This money goes to childhood cancer research. Now, my children are healthy, crazy, monsters…I mean, little boys. J However, my friend Terence has a little girl (who is 6 years old) named Violet who suffers from Neuroblastoma, which is a rare and deadly childhood cancer. Terence and I are not very close but I have followed the health of his daughter and have constantly sent my prayers and best wishes their way. I always said to him, “If there is anything I can do, please just tell me”. When I heard about St. Baldricks, I knew that it was a sign. That was what I had to do. So in dedication to Violet  (who is still alive today but fighting for her life and health) I decided to register to be a participant in this St. Baldricks “thing”. I raised money, which was not as much as I wanted to but every little bit helps. Raising money and getting donations from my friends and relatives was a bit strange and foreign to me. I didn’t know how to ask them and then I felt bad for doing it. This topic is to be continued later…..

Someone asked me why we shave our heads. This was a simple answer to me and it made more sense than anything did. Violet swayed my decision. Remember she’s 6 and while going through Chemotherapy and radiation, she lost her hair. She was upset and sad because she had hair all the way down to her lower back. It was long, brown, and wavy. So beautiful. When she lost it, she said that she felt like a boy and she always said that she was okay with losing her hair to get better but she felt ugly. I was so upset to hear this. It broke my heart into little pieces and I wasn’t sure that I would ever be able to put them back together because I KNEW that Violet wasn’t the only little girl or child to feel this way.

Hair is hair. It’s not gold. It doesn’t make you better. You cannot run faster with long hair. You cannot spell better with a beautiful mane. Hair is what you make it. If you have it, you try to make it beautiful. If you don’t have it, you show your true beauty. I was eager to shave my head in dedication to Violet because I wanted to show her that hair is just….hair. You can still be pretty without it. You can still be happy and loved without hair. As I said, hair is hair. For most of us, it will just grow back. Hair doesn’t make you beautiful; your soul makes you beautiful. What is inside is what shows true beauty. If cancer takes your hair, show cancer that you’re still strong and you’re still beautiful. You don’t need that stinkin’ hair. And after all, you won’t have to use conditioner, brush it, curl it or scrunch it. This is what Violet liked because she hated to hair her hair messed with before.

After I shaved my head the first time, I went to visit her. She thought I was sick to. Until I told her that I did it for her. She was surprised that I WANTED to be bald and she was surprised that I was still pretty, even without hair. I reminded her that hair doesn’t make you beautiful. Her attitude made her beautiful, her face made her beautiful, and her caring and loving spirit made her absolutely gorgeous. Her chemotherapy ended shortly after I shaved my heard. Our hair grew back at almost the same speed. It was fun to watch her hair change and to watch her get better. It was amazing. It made me realize that what I did, even thought it was just raising a little bit of money and shaving my head, made a difference. If anything, it made a difference to her.

Violet is doing much better now. She’s still sick but she has been feeling much stronger and much more….solid minded. She turns 8 this year.

A couple months ago, I was fretting out about my hair. I was always saying, it looks to dry, I hate it; I wish I could just start anew. I started to think of Violet and started feeling like a total douche…

Now that I have children and they are growing and thriving. I know that childhood cancer affects children’s lives tremendously. It takes away their childhood and makes them deal with grown up things way to fast, and it’s not fair. They deal with more pain and agony that most adults would ever experience in their lifetime. Then I thought about their parents. If one of my children had cancer, I don’t know what I would do. I would be in a mental hospital, I’m sure. I’m not sure if I could deal with it. Watching my child go through all that is involved with a disease would sicken me. It would wear me down and if something happened to them, my life would be over for sure.

A couple months ago when I was freaking out about how much I hated my hair, I thought about that. Yes, Violet is feeling much better, but there are millions of other children that are going through the same thing. At least I have hair. Why am I being so superficial? That’s it, I had it. That’s when I decided that I would do St. Baldricks again this year. But only this time I would make it bigger and badder than before. I’m going to raise MORE money and shave off MORE hair and bring MORE people in with me to do it. I’m going to get the word out there so one day; cancer will be a thing of the past. I envision the day when children don’t get sick and if they do, it can be cured. This day will not come if research isn’t done, and research will not be done in full unless people like you and me donate to the cause.

Now I’m not trying to make anyone feel guilty or force anyone into doing anything they do not want to do. I just wanted to get the word out and remind people that there are some who have it worse than we do. I wanted to tell everyone in more detail what St. Baldricks is and explain why it is so near and dear to me. And let’s not lie...I want you to contribute to the cause by sponsoring me. Even if it is just two dollars, Heck, even fifty cents. Any amount of money I can raise this year is a blessing.

I’m going bald, BALD EAGLE BALD, bald as can be bald, on St. Patricks day this year. My fund raising goal is $2000. I’m sure I can do it, or at least get close, I just need followers and I need people to be with me on this. I plan to post before and after pictures as well as video from the event of the actual shaving of my mane. Please take this as a piece of learning material…or encouragement. Whichever you prefer. Please reach deep into your soul and think about what is important. Donate to the cause or register to be shaven, yourself!

Here is the link...
http://www.stbaldricks.org/participants/mypage/participantid/502599

Don't waste the wine!

There I was, browsing the wine aisle for something different from the usual Moscato, Oliver, or Reggae Red. I walked back and forth again and again looking for something to strike my fancy when, there it was, a black bottle with one red blood drop looking thing on it and the words sweet red.

The bottle cost about $10, which is a little more than I like to pay. My favorite only cost $7 or $8. However, of course I bought it. I mean come on, it looked cool and seemed like it would taste delish. I put it in the fridge right when I got home. I didn’t even take my coat off because I was so excited to get it chilled and try it. A few hours later, Kerry (one of my besties) and I settled down with a cold glass of Red Drop wine. Now first let me tell you, I am by no means a wine connoisseur. I would like to be and I’m trying to learn more about wine and what I like by just trying new things. I picked up my glass, swirled it around, and gave it a good whiff. It had a barrel/wood smell. That is not a good sign for me. The smell reminded me of a merlot, and I would rather die of dehydration than to drink a merlot. I took a sip and….wow, it was disgusting. This beautiful “sweet” wine was as dry as can be. We ended up putting it back in the fridge and opening some Lotto Moscato. I told Kerry to take the Red Drop home with her. Although she didn’t like it, she was at least able to finish her glass. She advised me to keep it in the fridge and use it to cook with.

This was a good idea so; I kept it in the fridge for a couple weeks awaiting a good recipe to come along. I have never cooked with wine, besides the occasional marsala. They say to cook with wine that you would drink. Although I didn’t like it, it was still a good wine.

Today I decided to experiment a little with this “cooking with wine” thing. Not sure exactly what I was doing or how it would turn out I threw a few ingredients into the good ol’ crock-pot and let it cook for 8 hours. The house smelled great and at first taste, it was delish.

I looked online and I guess I made a sort of…trailer park beef burgundy. I will include the recipe. I used a whole cup of red wine. I’m sure the wine cooked off in the 8 hours because I planned to feed it to my boys. Is that bad? Anyway, they loved it and both of them had seconds. I couldn’t believe it. I made a creation that everyone ate. And just let me tell you. My boys are the fussiest eaters ever. If it isn’t mac and cheese, pizza, or chicken nuggets, they usually won’t touch it. So the fact that they even tasted this concoction was a big surprise. So, here’s what I did…

In a crock-pot, mix the following ingredients. 1 normal size can of cream of mushroom soup, 1 pk. Of onion soup mix, 1 cup of red wine, 1 chopped onion, ½ c. of mushrooms, 1 ½ pounds of round steak, and a little bit of pepper. Just throw everything in there, put the lid on it, and let it cook away. When it is done, shred the beef and serve it atop some egg noodles. YUM.

I was surprised that it wasn’t salty or…winey. A perfect end to the day. Now I want some popcorn. Or ice cream......or popcorn on ice cream. Lol, i'm craving something sweet and salty.

Now for a clip of something that happened today:

As we sat down to eat, my chair moved in a weird way and made a fart sound. My boys laughed so I continued to make the sound so that they would know that it was the chair and not Mom who “did it”. Of course, with a bunch of little boys, it wasn’t a smart move to keep making the sound. I couldn’t convince them that it was the chair. It WAS the chair people. I was being taunted, “Ohh, hahaha, Mommy farted. Mommy farted a lot. Hahaha!” Since they didn’t believe me, what else was I to do but claim it? I said, “HEY! Girls don’t fart. That sound you heard was actually baby unicorns being released into the world to sprinkle sugar on cookies!” I thought my comment would confuse them and ultimately, make them stop giggling. I ended up creating my own monsters because all I heard after that was how bad they wanted some sugar cookies. Ugh, a girl can’t win. Moral of the story…Just say excuse me and move on.

Public Etiquette

Let me start out by saying that I think of myself as a compassionate, nice, church going woman who loves her children, friends, and family. So do not take what I am about to say the wrong way…

Working in retail, I see a lot of crazy things. However, most recently, I was quite taken by surprise. So there I was, (admitting) leaning on the jewelry counter and looking out at the rest of the store. I do this fairly often, usually just to look out and see how many people are in the store. Well, Tuesday I leaned over and beheld a young mother and her newborn, infant baby. My first thought was, “Aww, what a cute baby. And she’s such a young girl to be a mom.” Of course, that last part was none of my business but I was surprised. I went over to see the baby and talk to the young lady. The baby was three weeks old and the mother had just turned seventeen. I guess that is not much of a surprise in this day and age. The baby was dressed in one of those white onsies and the neck part was wet with spit-up. He was not wearing a hat or socks and the only blanket around was folded up on top of the diaper bag. I was wearing pants and a long sleeve shirt and I was still freezing. The store is always somewhat chilly and there was that baby, lying in the car seat with just a onsie on. I was immediately angry but thought that maybe she had just unbundled him. So..Yes, I watched her like a hawk the whole time she was in the store. As she was checking out, I walked over near where she was and watched as she put her bags in the cart and just wheeled the baby right out into the elements outside. The blanket was still folded on top of the diaper bag. What the heck was she thinking? I mean, the winter has been unusually warm but a three-week-old baby should rarely even leave home, nonetheless come out into public practically wearing just a diaper. The saddest part of this story is, that kind of thing has happened before.

On a not so serious note, people are messy! Not all people of course, but a big majority of them are. People will put things anywhere, or take thirty items into a fitting room, try them all on, and then leave them all on the floor (pants inside out and shirts just thrown here and there). I wonder what their homes look like. Secondly, I don’t know how this happens but…I think women pee on the toilet seats more than men do.  Okay, that was gross but it had to be said. Every day I see it…and still cannot believe it.

Cart etiquette is also an important life lesson that everyone should learn. Do they teach that in school? They should! It seems so minuet but wait and listen. Have you ever been to Wal-Mart during a busy shopping holiday? If so, you know what I mean. People cut in front of you, drive all over the place, stop their carts in the middle of the aisle and walk away, and let their kids get all crazy either with it or in it. This was actual the fuel behind this whole post today. I was in Town & Country and this man was following behind me with his cart really close. I could tell he was in a hurry but there were people in front of me going slower as well as people beside me, so I couldn’t just hurry up and go for this guy. When I got a window, I sped up a little so this guy could get around me and he noticed. Before I could think, BANG!!! He crashed the front of his cart right into the back of my heels. I couldn’t help but to scream right there in the store and buckle at the knees. I turned around and yelled, “HOLY MOTHER OF….(a child looked at me)…ABRAHAM LINCOLN!” This guy turned around and high tailed it out of there without so much as an “oops”.

Lastly, to all the parents out there, it is okay to discipline your children in public. I’m not saying to abuse them or spank them. But a discrete and abrupt stop to abort bad behavior is perfectly acceptable. Don’t scream at them or spank them because that would just humiliate them and what does that really do anyway? You would end up giving your child a complex when they are older. I hate seeing children act up and I hate it even more when the parent’s reaction is to ignore the behavior. I think parents are scared to do anything to correct their children in public. I have actually corrected children’s behavior when their parents would not. I of course would only do this if the child was in danger and the parent did not recognize or do anything to fix it.

All I am basically saying is that there is proper etiquette when in public. Anything from driving our carts to raising our children, some people just need to be aware of their surroundings and in the case of the mother with the naked baby, GET HELP, TAKE CLASSES, AND DRESS THAT BABY!

Christmas

It didn’t snow at all on Christmas. The grass was green, the air crisp, and the breeze wisping through the house was, oddly enough, warm for an Indiana winter. I woke up to a bright beam of light shining right into my closed eye. I rolled over and cursed Mother Nature for making Christmas day sunny. I wanted a cold, blustery snowfall. A gray kind of day. That kind of thing always made Christmas really feel like…Christmas. I think this was my first winter holiday without snow. It reminded me of Florida and made me wince at the pain of missing that magical (home of the evil rat-Mickey Mouse) place.

Anyway, no sooner than the sun woke me, the boys were jumping with glee asking if Santa had come. I was conscious of the fact that my boys are sneaky snakes and I put the door lock on the inside of the door and made them sleep with me so they couldn’t escape to gaze at the wondrous bounty that awaited them. Oh, what torture that must have been for them.

When we finally snuck out to open presents, they were beyond ready. They ran right to the tree and started grabbing gifts. “This one’s mine, and so is this one”, said Ryder to every present he saw. Stefan stated that all of the big presents were his. Bigger is better when you don’t know what’s inside. Stefan ended up loving all of his small presents, which were Cars2 cars. Half way through opening presents, I made everyone stop while I cooked breakfast. Eggs, bacon, pancakes, corned beef hash, and grits were gobbled up almost before I was done cooking. Oh what a way to get kids to eat on Christmas morning! It was also a way for me to stretch out the present opening time for as long as I could. Usually we are done opening presents within a half hour. Not this year. I drug it out like it was the last Christmas ever (and it just may be, according to the Mayans).

After presents we started opening the boxes to all the tracks, action figures, and animated toys, we realized that we were not prepared at all for how many batteries we would need. Who takes into account how many toys need what batteries? I’ll bet there are people out there who have a running list of batteries needed. I’m not that organized, and I don’t wanna be. If I can be perfectly honest, putting toys together and “powering them up” was pretty hellish. One Hot Wheels track along took me an hour. Who are they making these things for? Rocket scientists? One of the things I put together seemed so simple that I thought, “This cannot be right”, and I took it apart just to reassemble it the exact same way again. I’m glad that part is over. Ryder spent a lot of time rummaging through the torn up paper that I had piled up, looking for more presents hiding in the wrapping paper graveyard.

The boys spent the whole day playing with their presents and being amazingly good.

I started dinner. The menu was glazed ham, cabbage, corned bread. I know, what a feast right? I wish I would have thought of something better. It was good though. I made these amazing meatballs for an appetizer. OH MY GOSH, they were delicious. I put one bag of frozen traditional style meatballs in a slow cooker with a can of cranberry sauce and a whole jar of chili sauce. It cooked for about five hours and they were so Smokey sweet. I wish I had some now. Dessert was the leftover stale cookies that Santa didn’t have the appetite to eat. Chocolate is chocolate, despite a little staleness. Ha ha ha. (or is it Ho ho ho, enjoy that Santa).

Regardless of the boys being good and the day being great, I couldn’t help but feeling overwhelmed at how selfish my children seemed. I want them to understand that Christmas isn’t just about presents, but how do you teach them that. How does Santa tie in with Jesus’s birthday? What a miracle that Santa just so happens to come on that day. Was he really born on December 25^th? Why, I thought the date was really sometime in the early fall. I mean, I guess it really doesn’t matter exactly. Why is it important that we know when Jesus was born? We certainly do not use this knowledge to celebrate His birthday—He tells us to commemorate His death, not His birth (I Corinthians 11:23-26). The true date, however, destroys the entire foundation of the Christmas holiday. Who could ever know for certain. I enjoy believing that Dec. 25^th is Jesus’s birthday, thus Christmas. I just do not know how to tell my children how Jesus and Santa go together. A simple, “Santa was Jesus’s homeboy.” Won’t work. I guess I will have to work on that one a bit and maybe get over my conspiracy theory. (I’m not putting down believing or religion, I’m religious and a follower of the lord, I’m just confused and sometimes feel that I’m being played).

To get back on track…It is now four days after Christmas and I am disappointed. The day was over as fast as it came, which seemed unusually fast this year. I wish Christmas day could span into a two or three-day event but the day was over in just a few hours. Now everything seems drab and tiring. All I can think about is having to take all these decorations down that I spent so long on. And my “real Christmas tree” idea wasn’t so brilliant. Walking through the house and suddenly getting shanked with a dried spruce needle is…well, its not fun.

Now that the big day is over with, I’m starting to prepare for the New Year. Now is the time for resolutions and promises that we “promise” to keep. I’m excited for what is to come in 2012. The outlook is sunny and I embrace a fresh start. Bring it on 2012. I’m ready!

Chicks Dig Scars

Yesterday was likely the scariest moment of my life. Let me paint the picture.

I had just gotten home from watching Breaking Dawn with my friend and her husband. (GREAT MOVIE, the book is better but WOW) Anyway, my friend and I were sitting at the kitchen table enjoying a glass of moscato and chit chatting. The guys were watching the football game and my boys and her son were playing in the playroom. The boys kept arguing. One second they would be best friends and one second they would be fighting. Oh the complications of a childhood friendship. J Stefan came running out of the bedroom saying, “Robert isn’t my friend anymore, he doesn’t like me.” Shortly after, Robert walked up and said, “ I do too like you Stefan.” I was getting sick of the back and forth so I said, “You boys need to stop, you are friends.” Robert put his arms out to hug Stefan and when they hugged, they both starting laughing and getting a little rough when suddenly Stefan started to fall back and since he was hugging Lil’ Robert, he fell over on top of him. When they fell, the back of Stefan’s head hit the wall, right in the edge (corner). Yes, instinctively I said, “OH SH*T!” I knew that this was not going to be good. I ran over to him and dropped down to pick him up and he was screaming. Instant tears rolled down his cheeks. I put my hand over where he hit his head, he put his hand there too, and when we both drew our hands away, blood was everywhere. I jumped up and looked at it. Immediately I said, we need to go to the hospital now. It was deep and I was borderline panicking. Stefan stopped crying because I think he was amused watching me. Dad went to the bathroom and came back with a maxi pad saying, “Do you think this is alright?” I said, “Its perfect, hold in on his head.”

I got to the hospital in about 5 minutes and they took him in right away. Since it first happened, Stefan still hadn’t cried. When we got into our hospital room, they said that he would likely get some staples and that they were going to take a cat scan. While we waited, I took this picture.

Yes, its a maxi pad. You know, one of those super huge ones you get after having a baby. Eat your heart out ladies, i'll show you this one when he is 18 and dating. :)

Moving on, he was such a champ at the hospital. Before we went down to CAT scan, a nurse came in to clean up the wound, which really made a big difference to the appearance of his boo boo. He didn’t mind it being cleaned too much. I’m surprised that he still didn’t cry. He just didn’t like that the water was cold and that it was dripping down his back and getting on his shirt. After the woman cleaned his wound, we went down to CAT scan. Myself and the ladies that were there made a bid deal out of the fact that he couldn't move while it was "taking pictures". I got to stand right next to him and I was making jokes. "Ohh look, it looks like your going into the middle of a big super huge donut!" He wasn't amused and didn't make any facial gestures. His eyes started to get really big and watery. I asked him if he was going to cry. He said no. I asked him if he was okay and he said, "Mom, can I move my eyes?" loll. I said OF COURSE you can. :) He still tried not to but at least he finally blinked. He did really good with the test. Didn't move an inch.

 When we got back to the room, they decided to hurry up and staple that thing closed. The nurse explained to him what they were going to do and said it might hurt a little and he looked into my eyes and said, "Mom, I'm okay, lets just go home." I wish!They decided that they were not going to numb him up at all because the shot to numb the area would hurt more than the actual staples. I can understand that but I felt soo bad. He layed on his tummy with his chin on my leg and I held his arms down while another nurse held his head still. The doctor, really quickly, put three staples right in there. BANG BANG BANG! Well, not quite a bang but when your a mom, it feels like it. He cried really hard for a good minute but stopped shortly after.  Here are a few pics. One from right when we got to the hospital, one from after they cleaned it and one with the staples. I know, I know. I'm making a big deal out of this but I think I was a little traumatized.

This looks bad...but...

As you can see, its not THAT bad.

I guess I just freaked out.

Shortly after, we got our test results back and everything inside his head was okay. Shew! I was worried. Of course I thought the worst.
Back at home I gave him some Motrin and he layed in my bed with me while I got started on the two assignments for school I had due last night (which were done just in the nick of time). He fell asleep.

He got the sticker from the hospital and did not want to take it off at home so, I let him keep it on. Its not hurting anyone.

All night was rough. As soon as I would drift off to sleep, my eyes would snap open and I would swing around really quick to check on him, thinking I had been asleep for hours when in reality it was only 10 or 15 minutes. This happened all night. I was afraid that I had slept too long and that something had happened to him. I was scared that I would turn over to look at him and see something I didn't want to see. So, I really didn't sleep at all. I kept waking him up every hour to make sure he was okay. Maybe I took this head injury a little far but I hear such horror stories. I didn't want to take any chances.

He stayed home from school today. When I went to pick up Ryder, I stopped by Stefan's class to tell his teachers that he was okay and that he wouldn't stop talking about coming to school to show off his new "hardware". (which is so true)  I may let him go to school tomorrow if he feels up to it. When I went to his cubby, the whole class had wrote (drawn) him get well soon cards. The teacher said that they used free time to do it. I was so touched and surprised. When I brought the letters home to show Stefan he was surprised too. He said, "Oh my gosh, my friends really like me. I bet they miss me. I need to say thank you to them." He was happy that they were thinking about him.

He is doing great today and only cringes a little when he has an itch on his head or when I attempt to brush his hair. All in all, we are just fine!  :)