Single Mom of 3... by choice

I don't have time to blog... but wanted to link in to Kelly's Show Us Your Life today to find other single moms who don't have time to blog. :o)

I posted a day in our lives awhile back but so much has changed... for one thing, the addition of a new baby!! So let me start with an introduction and perhaps I'll have time later for an update on what our days look like now.

I am Prairie Rose... I'm a late 30s single mom to three children I'm adopting, who have now been in my care for one year (except the baby, who we got from birth). Puffins is 5, Doodle is 2, and Smiles is almost four months old -- unbelievable how quickly the time flies.

Since I'm single, I do work, but my schedule is pretty flexible and I'm able to be off by 2 pm to pick up Puffins from school, so I still get a good deal of stay-at-home time with the kids also.

Would love to see how other single moms handle things like one-on-one time with each child, doing things with the older child that the little ones can't do, etc. I feel like we do pretty well overall but finding the time and ability to do everything I wish I could with Puffins is my biggest weakness.

Sixty Years.

Sixty years ago today, a young mother of three made a choice... a dreadful choice. She chose to take her own life.

To do that, she must surely have felt like nothing she did mattered... but this? This mattered. This still matters. The repercussions of her act are still impacting lives today, and not for good.

You see, the poison she drank only poisoned her physical body... but it didn't stop there. The poison of bitterness filled her little daughter, sickening her more and more as she grew.

The poison destroyed the relationship between this now-grown little girl and her own daughter, driving the latter to the same depression and anxiety that plagued her grandmother.

And now the poison is seeping into the relationship of the now-aged little girl and her little granddaughter. Time will tell its impact upon her life -- the great-granddaughter of the young woman who felt herself so unimportant that she thought the world could do without her.

Four generations of women poisoned over a period of sixty years by that one bottle of rat-killer.

It is SO time for this to stop.

If you think you're worthless and the world would be better off without you, please think again. Think of who you'll still be hurting sixty years from now.

Just One Day

This post is for my own benefit so if you happen to stumble across it and wonder why I think you'd care about all these small details of our days, I don't. :) They just pass by so quickly and children change so much in no time, and I don't want to forget. This is a good place for me to quickly write down the little things, so I'll have a record of it someday when these days would otherwise be forgotten.

Doodle is our alarm clock most mornings, waking us anywhere between 6 and 7. Every once in awhile he'll sleep in till 7:30 or so -- typically on a morning we have to be somewhere early so have to get up before then anyway. If it's a Saturday, it's guaranteed to be 6 am.

Puffins flies out of bed the second she hears my doorknob turn. After a quick change of Doodle's diaper as he wakes up SOAKED, we head for the breakfast table. Doodle is currently in a stage where he really wants to feed himself but doesn't do a terribly good job.

After breakfast, I get Puffins ready for the day, then Doodle (9 times out of 10 he dirties his diaper after breakfast and there's no sense in dressing him before he does the deed!), then myself while the kids play in the living room, then it's off to the sitter's and to work we go!

When I pick them up in the afternoon, I try to have a plan for something we can do or somewhere we go. Really hot afternoons we usually spend at the pool. Nicer ones, we visit a park. If it's raining, the library makes a good stop, although we often run by there on the way home on pretty days as well. If it's later when I pick them up, we generally just go home and play in the back yard.

Doodle is crazy about balls. He spends his outside time digging every kind of ball he can find out of the storage shed. He especially loves t-ball and has mastered the art of putting the ball on the tee and hitting it with the bat all by himself. He will also throw a basketball at a hoop but just can't get it up high enough yet.

Puffins learned to swing by herself earlier this summer, much to my relief, as I got so tired of having to stand there and push her all the time, especially with an active toddler running around like crazy. She's now working on gymnastics skills in preparation for starting classes this fall.

I try to keep them outside and active until about 6:30. We come in for dinner and then I spend a half hour or so with Doodle doing fingerplays and songs with motions, working puzzles, shape sorters, and pop-up toys, and reading books while Puffins has her bedtime snack. He does all the motions to pat-a-cake and "If You're Happy and You Know It," will do some of the motions to "Itsy Bitsy Spider," "Five Little Monkeys" (both versions -- jumping on the bed and swinging from a tree), and loves to scream at the end of Row Your Boat (if you see an alligator, don't forget to scream!) He also loves Eye Winker and does the "gully gully gully" at the end of it and laughs. He's learning "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes."

Both kids are also crazy about singing and dancing. Puffins' favorites are those she sings at Kids Church, especially "Good Morning" and "Boom Chaka Laka." Doodle is WILD about "Mahna Mahna" and will sing the mahna mahna parts of it every time you sing it to him. He can't see a phone or computer without begging for it. His other favorite which he requests verbally all the time is, as he calls it, "Hey yeah, yeah" -- a song from VBS. So a lot of times during or after meals, we play music on the laptop and the kids dance in the kitchen.

At 7:30, Puffins and I put Doodle to bed. I change him and brush his teeth, and then hold him and sing his bedtime songs -- Jesus Loves Me, Rest Easy, Baby Mine, and finally Sleep Sound in Jesus. I say his little bedtime prayer for him, "Dear God, I love you. Thank you for loving me. Please keep me safe, and Puffins safe, and my baby brother or sister safe. In Jesus' name, Amen." Doodle always chimes in himself with the Amen. Then with a goodnight kiss, I lay him down, cover him with his blanket, give him his Mickey, and turn on his mobile. He says "ninight" and he gets one more kiss, and out we tiptoe.

Then begins Puffins' bedtime routine. We get her in her pjs and brush her teeth, and then we each pick out a library book to read. We read those two books first, then we read a Bible storybook, then we read a chapter or two from Little House -- currently on On the Banks of Plum Creek -- and then after some hugs, I tuck her in with her pink blanket first, and then the sheets and covers, read her her short bedtime devotional, then she says her prayer and I turn on her bedtime music and stay with her until she falls asleep, usually less than five minutes.

And that's a typical day in our lives right now.

Water

"I'm thirsty," came the cry from the backseat on the way to the sitter's this morning.

"Okay," I replied, bracing myself for the tantrum I knew was sure to come. "You can have some water as soon as we get to the babysitter's."

"NOOO!" came Puffin's shrill cry. "I don't WANT water!"

"Well, you're not thirsty then," I replied matter-of-factly.

"I want JUICE!" she insisted.

"You had juice for breakfast. If you're still thirsty, you can have water." Our caloric intake is extremely high as it without adding empty liquid calories to the count.

"I HATE WATER!" she shrieked. "I want milk!!!"

I have to limit her dairy intake due to constipation issues. I reminded her of this, and told her again she could have water.

She continued to cry and wail and scream the rest of the way to the sitter's about how mean I am to make her drink water, while I ignored her entirely but sighed inwardly to myself, wondering why it has to be this way. Must everything be a fight?

After dropping the kids off and heading off to work, I turned on the radio. K-Love was hosting a fundraiser for a Water for Life project for Compassion International. I thought of this morning's tussle as I heard story after story of children forced to drink sludge that made them sick, but there was no choice. They had nothing else to drink.

"Puffins needs to listen to these stories," I thought to myself. Not that it would likely make any difference. Four-year-olds are notoriously self-centered, after all.

But as the day progressed, a plan came to mind. For $55, I could purchase a filter that would supply one family in Rwanda with clean drinking water for the rest of their lives. Puffins has no way to earn money, nor any desire to as I've found from past experience, so having her help come up with the money wouldn't work. How could I involve her in this project and teach her a lesson in gratitude at the same time?

It came to me. I told Puffins this evening about the stories I heard, and asked her if she would like to help these poor children who have no clean water to drink. She was interested. We drew up a chart with numbers from 1 to 55. Every time Puffins drinks a glass of water without whining, complaining, or begging for juice or milk, she gets to mark off a number to represent a dollar earned toward the filter. When she reaches 55, we will buy the water filter for the family in Rwanda.

Puffins is excited about this, and asked for water with her dinner tonight. Here's hoping Puffins learns to appreciate what she has, while helping a family in Rwanda at the same time.

Want to help out too? Visit Compassion International and buy a water filter.

Where I've Been

I've been a little busy lately. My fostering adventure finally began, and boy, has it kept me busy.

My first call came on my nephew's birthday -- an eight week old baby boy was being discharged from the hospital and I needed to come pick him up immediately. What a frenzy ensued -- a happy one!! I loved every minute I had with this precious baby and don't regret a single second, although he only stayed with me eight days before the court ordered him home again, and spent half of that time in the hospital. He was a critically ill baby but I loved him desperately.

The house was so empty after he left. Funny how a house that had always been empty never felt so, but only eight days of a tiny seven-pound boy had filled it so wonderfully full that his absence caused the halls to echo.

Fortunately, this lasted only a couple of weeks, and within the span of five days, two children filled up my home again, Puffins and Doodle.

Doodle came first, a thirteen month old baby boy who stole my cautious heart almost immediately with his precious smile. Puffins followed, a devastatingly sad little girl, just four years old.

Fast forward a very very very busy six months, and Doodle is still winning hearts everywhere with his smiles and hugs and kisses, and Puffins is a much happier child, herself, though time has not yet healed all wounds.

Just a brief update before I begin posting again, lest you wonder who on earth are these children who appeared out of nowhere named Puffins and Doodle. :)

Merry Christmas to Me

It's been a great Christmas so far, and it's not even Christmas Eve yet!

My best Christmas present is a girl named Mariamu. I recently heard about this 14 year old from Tanzania who was waiting for a sponsor through Compassion International -- Australia. I don't live in Australia, so I couldn't sponsor her -- or could I?

I very much wanted to sponsor Mariamu. There are hundreds of kids waiting on the Compassion USA site, but Mariamu needed me. You see, she's been waiting six and a half years for a sponsor. Six and a half years.

That is mind-boggling. I can't even imagine how much she has hurt over the years, watching every other child receive letters and gifts and love from their sponsors, and month after month, year after year, nobody ever sends her anything. Nobody cares about her.

To make matters worse, Mariamu was recently orphaned. So not only has she had to sit more than six years waiting for someone to care about her enough to sponsor her, but she has watched both of her parents die -- and she has no siblings. She's all alone in the world now.

Or at least she was. I was able to obtain permission to have Mariamu transferred to the Compassion USA site so that I could sponsor her. Merry Christmas to me!!! I am so excited about adding this new sweet girl to my Compassion family, and only hope that I am up to the challenge of pouring enough love out to her to make up for the six and a half years of nothing.

There are many children like Mariamu waiting for a sponsor. Do you have some extra love to share with a child who desperately needs it this Christmas? I highly encourage you to sponsor a child. Compassion's programming is so successful at releasing children from poverty -- at truly making a difference. There are lots of good ministries out there feeding the hungry, putting shoes on bare feet, digging water wells, etc., and those are wonderful things to support. But Compassion takes a different approach. Rather than changing the child's circumstances and hoping for a change in the child, they believe if you change the child, then the child will change their circumstances. They use a child development model, to help children learn and grow and be loved and achieve their fullest potential, in spite of their circumstances.

There are children of all ages and countries waiting for you to change their world today, for a mere $38 a month and the time invested in your correspondence. Go now, and bring "home" a child for Christmas this year.

Besides Mariamu, my Christmas has been fun so far due to getting the opportunity to play Santa Claus -- and seeing God's hand work in that situation.

I asked my preschoolers at church to bring in birthday presents for Jesus. Some brought money, which I had not wanted them to do as I wanted it to be meaningful for the kids, and I don't think preschoolers really get the point when Mom or Dad forks over money, instead of them wrapping up a toy they'd really like to have themselves and giving it away. But what can you do?

As it turns out, God had a plan for that money. I learned of a 7 year old boy who wanted nothing for Christmas except a bicycle. His name went on a Salvation Army tree and was chosen... by a person who bought him a shirt, a hat and gloves, some Matchbox cars... and a bicycle helmet.

What a slap in the face, to give a child who wants nothing but a bike, a HELMET with no bike. I don't know what on earth they were thinking.

Well, as it turns out, my kids brought in $50. A boys' bicycle cost $49 at Walmart. Is that God or what? That little boy is getting his bicycle for Christmas, courtesy of my preschoolers. :o) I just had the fun of dropping it off, and was his grandmother ever grateful.

I also had the pleasure of dropping off all the toys the kids brought in to a family I just met last week -- after having asked the kids to bring in presents with no idea who I was going to give them to. I knew God would show me who needed them, and He did. This poor little boy had absolutely nothing for Christmas, and his parents are too concerned about saving up money to get the water turned back on to be able to spend anything on gifts. There's no stockings hanging up in that house, no tree of any kind. You wouldn't even know it's Christmas. At least, you wouldn't a couple of days ago. With the pile of brightly wrapped gifts I just dropped off to them this afternoon, chosen by my preschoolers as gifts they themselves would like to receive at Christmas, I think this little boy's Christmas is looking a lot merrier. :o)

And then a gift for me -- I unexpectedly received in the mail -- unexpectedly because after thinking things had finally fallen into place so that I could begin fostering, more red tape intervened and I thought right now I was just on hold again -- my certificate of approval for fostering/adopting. FINALLY!!

Now I just wait on a phone call to go pick me up some kids! :o) Hallelujah!

Why Children Don't Have Homes

I've refrained from writing about this for months and months but I'm mad enough now I can't keep from doing it any longer. Not that it matters that I write it. But at least I can vent. And have a record for myself of this ridiculously lengthy timeline to look back on someday when it's all over. Assuming that someday ever comes.

February 7, 2009. I filled out an application to become a foster parent. The application stated that the process can take up to six months to complete.

About a week later. I received a packet of information on the process, as well as signup sheets for mandatory classes to become certified to foster and/or adopt. No problem. I signed up for the soonest class available. After all, I was ready to go. Immediately.

May 2, 2009. I completed the last of five full Saturdays in training. Fingerprints were taken in the first class, the first week of April. Next step -- and last one: Home Study. Someone would contact us to set that up, we were told. I specifically asked if there was anything else I needed to do in the meantime. Anything to fill out. Anyone to call. No. We're done with everything. We just need to wait on this phone call. It may take several months due to them being backed up. Court-appointed home studies must be completed first because they have a deadline. Kinship care comes next, because those children are already in the foster homes and they must hurry to do the home studies to ensure those children are safe. So "resource families" as they called people like me who just want to give a home to a needy child that is not a relative are last on the list. Fine. A few months. I can wait a few months.

August 2009. I begin calling the office to find out if they're going to schedule my home study soon. I call for over a month before I actually get to speak to a human being. Over a month. You can't imagine how many calls that is, or how many messages that is. Nor how frustrating it is to never be able to get ahold of anyone.

September 2009. At last, someone calls me. But not the person I've been trying to reach. Not that person's supervisor. Not anyone from my county at all. But a person from several counties away calls, because their supervisor told them to call me because he was too busy to do it and the person I've been trying to reach is out on maternity leave. At last, I get to speak to a human being, although it's not a human being who can help me. Except that said human being asks if I've submitted my home study information yet. What home study information? Why, a huge packet of information I'm supposed to fill out before they'll call me. Remember I specifically asked if there was anything I needed to do or fill out at that last class and was told no, nothing, just wait for a call? The call was never going to come, because if you don't fill out this packet of information then they assume you are no longer interested and don't call you. THANKS. I had her send me the packet. I filled it out that very day and sent it back in. And waited.

October 2009. I begin calling again. Maternity leave lady was supposed to be back in early September. I want to make sure they know I'm interested. And know I've been waiting. Since February. And trained since May 2. I'm very tired of waiting. Christmas is coming, and I want children in my home for Christmas. Can we please get this taken care of? I finally reach the lady who does the home studies, who tells me I need to come into the office to speak with her and take care of some things. Finally, I think! Progress. I make the appointment. I go in. Fingerprints... the ones taken SIX MONTHS AGO? They came back rejected. Not because I'm a criminal. Because the FBI was apparently unable to read the prints. She fingerprinted me again, then told me that this was her last week at this office so she won't be doing my home study. Someone else will and she'll be sure to let them know I've been waiting a long time and she's quite sure they'll get to me soon.

November 2009. I call the new lady. I ask her if she can give me an estimate of when she's going to be able to schedule my home study. She launches into the spiel I have now heard repeatedly, "We have to do the court-appointed studies first, and then we have to do the kinship care, and folks like you are at the bottom of the list..." I said, "I understand that, ma'am, but it's been 9 months since I got on the list... I was thinking surely my turn must be coming up soon." (Seeing as how the application states the process can take UP TO six months, if you'll recall.) In an annoyed tone, the new home study lady replies, "We never even get through all the kinship studies. You will ALWAYS be at the bottom of the list."

WELL THEN!

They could have told me that in MAY and saved all this hassle! Why even pretend like they're going to eventually come out and do my home study if they know good and well it's never going to happen? and WHY can't it happen?? What on earth are they DOING all day long five days a week 52 weeks a year that they can't come out to my house for an hour and get this done?? And then they complain that they don't have enough foster families, and that there are alllllll these children waiting for adoption that nobody will adopt. Well, gee, I wonder why???

So. I hung up the phone and called a private agency. If the department were doing their job, there would be no need for the private agency. Because the agency does foster care, as well -- they get the kids that the department is unable to find homes for. Why can the agency find homes when the department can't? Hmm, might it be because the agency will actually come out and do home studies!?!!? I called them in late November.

December 2009: The lady from the agency came out and did my initial home study, and two weeks later my follow-up home study. Fingerprints taken again. After the follow-up, I was informed that everything was great and ready to go, as soon as the fingerprints cleared, I was ready to start taking kids. It will take about 6 weeks, I'm told. Terrific! After this lengthy wait, the end is finally near!

January 2010: My fingerprints from the state came back clear, but the fingerprints from the FBI have not yet arrived. Waiting. Waiting.

March 2010: I've heard nothing. I call the agency. "No, those prints aren't back yet, they've been taking a long time. There's nothing we can do about it but just wait."

Notice the agency did their part rapidly. The government dawdled for months upon months and got nothing done and in less than a month, the agency's part was done. Fingerprints? Back to the government. And so we wait.

April 2010: I call again about the fingerprints. They still aren't in. I express great concern. It could not possibly take this long, I say. Please check into this. They check into it. Apparently the FBI has LOST my prints because they don't have them sitting on their desk and apparently have no way to TRACK whether they've done prints or not. Wonderful. I get another set of prints done. This time they have me send in two sets. That way if one set can't be read, surely the other one can. No more delays... no more delays.

July 2010: I call again. It's been three months with no word. "Oh," they say. "Your prints came back last week, but it's not good... they couldn't read them." WHAT? BOTH sets they couldn't read?

At this point, I was beyond furious. And so frustrated I just wanted to scream. I could do this for the rest of my life! Here I've been waiting since CHRISTMAS on absolutely NOTHING but this one stupid set of prints. Stupid especially because my state prints cleared no problem, and I've never lived in another state! Why is this even necessary?? And yet it is. I begin to feel like I could do this the rest of my life and never get anywhere. If you've ever been in a car that's stuck in the mud, so frustrated and desperate to get out that you'll do anything and yet nothing works, your wheels just spin and spin, that's where I'm at. I call them to express my great frustration and my desperation to just get this done. I will drive TO the FBI office, I offer, several hours away to get this DONE. No, I can't do that, it does no good. The only way to get cleared is to send in the prints again, and wait another three months. Maybe my prints I did for the government in October came through okay -- if I could get ahold of them, and if they would send the info.... no, we can't do that.

The only thing that gives me any hope at all is that I am now told that the FBI requires three attempts, and if this third attempt also fails and can't be read, they will do a name search instead. So it WILL eventually be over. But when? Another three months to read these prints -- if they can keep from losing them this time!!! -- and then if they can't read them, another three months to do a name search?

Something has to be done about this. There are children waiting for homes, and ridiculous things like this going on to prevent those homes from being available to them. I have been willing to jump through any hoop they give me, and I do it immediately each time. And here I am a year and a half down the road and still months away from having any hope of getting through those hoops. How does anyone do it?? I've never been so frustrated in my life.

And people wonder why I'm becoming more libertarian (in principle, not in party) every day. The private agency has done its job quickly and successfully in every way. But every step that involves any governmental party has dragged along and been full of hassles and red tape. Something has got to change.

So for now, I wait again. For a third set of prints. And yet another Christmas which will likely come and go with no children in this home.

Did I mention the two beautiful rooms that just sit empty and collect dust month after month after month while hundreds of children in this state sit wishing desperately for a home?

Childless

Sometimes it can be discouraging when it seems the entire rest of the world has children and year after year goes by and you still do not. Sometimes it can.

But then sometimes I remember.

6 sponsored children through Compassion International. (Two of them call me mom.)

25 children in the preschool ministry I'm director of at church. (Doesn't hurt when one excitedly drags her mother across an amphitheatre because, "I SAW MY TEACHER AND WE MUST GO SEE HER!!!!")

35 infants and toddlers I see day in and day out for therapy (which of course means play for infants and toddlers, and hey, how many people get paid to play all day?)

20 foster children at the summer camp I'm getting ready to volunteer at

A niece and a nephew who glue themselves to me whenever possible. And another nephew who's too young to do it yet but almost certainly will before long. And another foster nephew to play with, on top of all that.

By my calculations, that's 90 children I have the opportunity to influence in this present season of my life. That doesn't count the hundreds who have come and gone (and come and GROWN!) over the years.

And I call myself childless??

“Sing, O barren one, who did not bear; break forth into singing and cry aloud, you who have not been in labor! For the children of the desolate one will be more than the children of her who is married,” says the Lord. ~Isaiah 54:1

Happy Easter...

Last week in the preschool class I work in at church, our memory verse was, "He is not here; He has risen." When book time arrived, one of my little girls excitedly announced, "Oh, you don't have to tell me my verse, I already know it!" and proceeded to recite: "He is not here; He is in prison."

Oops.

(This is the same little girl who at Christmas shared that you have to believe in Jesus and ask Him into your heart or else He won't bring you any Christmas presents. She's so close... and yet so far away.)

So, this Easter season, I've been reflecting. A series of coincidences have occurred in my life surrounding death and loss, interesting timing for this holiday in which we celebrate victory over death.

You see, yesterday I reconnected with the daughter of an old friend who passed away several years ago. Sharing memories and looking through old pictures just made me miss her all the more.

At the same time, my great-aunt just died. The visitation was today. How strange, to be going to a funeral home on Easter. And yet, how fitting. After all, what better reminder of what Easter is all about? She's celebrating new life, eternal life, in heaven today -- because of what happened on the very first Easter Sunday.

It was still a strange experience, because the relative was on my father's side of the family. While my mother's side is mostly present and very close, my father's side of the family is very nearly gone. But for a couple uncles now, his entire family is gone. I was reminded of that as I walked through the doors of the funeral home, as I've done so many times to bid farewell to his father, his stepmother, his aunt and uncle who raised him, his brother, and others. When I saw the brother of my great-uncle who raised my father, so was much like a grandfather to me, it was like seeing my great-uncle again, though he's been gone for thirteen years. My grandfather's two remaining brothers bear a strong resemblance to him, as well... gone for more than twenty years. The familiar faces from my childhood scrolled through my memory and as I realized those times are gone, those people are gone, I can never have another moment with any of them again (on earth), I felt much sorrow.

What if the little girl was right? What if death had imprisoned Jesus, as it could do to each of us without Him? What if He didn't conquer death, what if He didn't rise again? Life as we know it would be so different -- it wouldn't even feel like life at all. It would feel like death. Death would pervade our entire existence. We'd be robbed of all hope, and filled with constant sadness.

But He did overcome the grave, and He is alive today, and because He is, we have not only the hope, but the assurance of eternal life. Eternity is set in our hearts, you know... and I realize now that this is why I miss my friend... my family members, so much. Because it feels wrong to me to think of them as being gone forever, to think of them as nothing more now but a memory, I find myself longing to see them again, to have more time together, to make new memories.

And we will. The reason it feels so wrong to think of them as gone forever is that they aren't gone forever. They've just moved away, and someday I'll move there too, and we'll all be reunited, never to be separated again.

So the song in my heart this year reflects my thoughts upon death and lost loved ones...

"For everything must die to rise again." (Matt Maher)

It's been a long time...

I haven't blogged since before Christmas -- mainly because there wasn't anything pressing to blog about. It's been a fun few months, a busy few months, but nothing earth shattering has occurred.

Well, except one wee thing. The birth of our precious little Michael Darling in January was pretty earth shattering. I'd had a cold the few days before he was born but was feeling much better the actual day of his birth and had gone to work. I had decided not to go to the hospital because I didn't want to spread my germs to a newborn baby, but I was feeling so much better and I was so sad about not getting to see him that finally after he was born, I asked if I could come over if I promised to stay back from him and not touch him or breathe on him. His parents said sure, come on over, so off I sped toward the hospital.

Unfortunately, just as I got on the elevator to go up to Delivery, my brother called. "They just took him to the nursery, and they said it'll be hours before he's back." My immediate dismay quickly turned to hope, as I recalled following the nurses to the nursery and watching through the window when John was born, so I changed my direction and went straight to the nursery.

When I reached the window, I saw two newborns in the incubators and they were bringing one in. Which one might he be? As soon as the nurse came to the window and laid the new one they were bringing in on the scale, I had no doubt. This was our Michael Darling. Had to be, he looked exactly like John did when he was born! I was thrilled that I could recognize a baby I'd never met.

I watched them weigh him, bathe him, incubate him, and all the other things they put the poor little darlings through, and was pleased that I got to see him for such a long time at no risk to him, due to the nice glass window between us keeping any germs away. And by the next evening, I was still feeling totally healthy and felt the germ risk had passed, so got to hold him and cuddle him and coo at him all I wanted.

John was born allergic to everything, and sure enough, little Michael started out the same way. Fortunately, his parents already knew the ropes from going through it all with John, and removed everything that John was eventually found to be allergic to from the baby, and he's having a GREAT infancy so far! (Poor little John was miserable the first 6-8 months of life, until they finally worked out what all he was allergic to so they could remove it all!) He's a smiley little guy already and sweet as sweet can be.

Nothing much else to report. But I'll stop in when there is. :) 'Til then -- ta ta.

What Christmas is All About -- Well... Sort Of.

"I asked Jesus into my heart -- did I already tell you?" one of my little five-year-olds in my Wednesday night class at church said to me last night.

"No, you didn't!" I answered. "That's wonderful! I'm so happy!"

"Have you asked Jesus into your heart?" she said, turning to the boy who sat beside her.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Oh, you HAVE to love Jesus and ask Him to come and live in your heart," she said emphatically.

"Well I do!" he declared.

"If you don't," she continued on, "He won't bring you any presents at Christmas!"

Kids -- you gotta love them. :)

Her mom later described the event, which had happened earlier that morning. After she made the decision that she wanted to ask Jesus into her heart, she said she wanted to give Jesus a kiss.

"Well," her mother thought... "You can't really give Jesus a kiss right now, but when we get to heaven, you can give Jesus a kiss."

"But I already did!" she protested.

"How?" puzzled her mother.

"Like this!" And the little girl kissed her hand as if she were going to blow a kiss, then rubbed it onto her heart.

Now come on, folks. It doesn't get much sweeter than that. :)

What I Bought on Black Friday

Tickets to see Little House on the Prairie, The Musical, with a couple of my best friends.

Yippee!

Christmas Presents?

I'm not a Black Friday shopper. Hopefully never will be. I guess I don't really see the point. The big ticket items, you can't get unless you sit all night in the parking lot, and the small ticket items -- is it really that big of a sale? There are other times in the year when you get prices just as good, or pretty close, without the chaos.

I hate crowds. I try to get my shopping done before Thanksgiving just to limit the amount of time I have to spend in stores between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

I think another thing that makes me shun Black Friday is all the STUFF. Do people really want and need all the stuff they're grabbing off the shelves? Really? That much stuff?

Now, this time of year, I see tons of bloggers talk about wanting to simplify Christmas (I'm all for that), and only get their kids a couple small gifts (great for them, but I know I could never do it) -- and I also see a lot of comments about Laura Ingalls and her tin cup and peppermint stick Christmas. I see comments such as, "I don't even remember all the stuff I got for Christmas, and people who get just an orange or just a stick of candy remember it their whole lives."

Really? You don't remember the stuff you got for Christmas as a kid? Because I do.

I think of childhood Christmases, and I see the twin dolls and the Holly Hobbie record player I got when I was 3... yes, 3, and I SEE that record player UNDER the tree, unwrapped but with wrapped presents around it, and I see that one little baby doll in its crib waiting for me under the tree Christmas morning, and I see my dad's cousins come in bearing another gift -- the same baby doll -- and my instantly loving them both and raising them as twins. And I was barely three.

Every other Christmas is as vivid, if not more so as I got older. I know what I got for Christmas. I may not remember every single gift -- but I sure remember a lot of them. And I definitely remember the "big gifts". We had several wrapped presents that made their appearance under the Christmas tree at random times throughout the month of December. Always an exciting moment to wake up and discover there are more presents under the tree!! (We never did Santa so the presents could come out whenever my mom got them wrapped instead of having to wait until Christmas Eve, and I wouldn't trade all the joy of anticipation while shaking and feeling and guessing about those wrapped gifts for a belief in Santa that would have later been dashed anyway!) On Christmas morning, our "big gift" sat unwrapped and waiting for us -- a dollhouse, a toolbench (for my brother), a table and chairs set, a special much-longed for doll, etc.

I remember those gifts, I see them clearly in our living room, sitting on that red felt Christmas tree skirt and sometimes spreading over onto the blue shag carpet. I see the tree, with its gawdy gold tinsel, icicles abounding everywhere, those enormous bulb lights with the foil underneath them that looked like cupcake wrappers, and the familiar ornaments, some we made, hanging on the branches. I see those red stockings with fabric initials sewn on them, hanging against that brown paneling on the wall over the heater. It was the 70s, after all. I even remember the stocking contents -- those big plastic candy canes filled with M&Ms, socks and panties, hairthings, pretty pencils and notepads, lip gloss, and other little things that make little girls happy.

So I have to admit, I don't understand these people who don't remember their "big Christmases" and marvel at the memory of the child who only got an orange. It leaves me pondering -- what made the difference?

The only thing I can come up with is the possibility that perhaps these children got lots of things all the time. We didn't. We got a couple of small things for our birthday, and we got a nice Christmas. We didn't get things the rest of the year. I watch Wendy beg for something every time we go to the store -- and most of the time, my dad buying whatever it is she wants -- and I remember that we never asked... never thought to ask because why on earth would we get a toy for no special reason? We asked for what we wanted, sure -- but we always asked as a gift. If we were at the toy store and found something we loved, we asked if we could have that for Christmas.

So maybe I remember all those lovely Christmas gifts because it was the only time in the year -- with the exception of birthday, which was much much smaller -- when we got all those things. Maybe the other people got toys and things year-round. I don't know.

But I do know that the best way to make, and keep, something special and magical for your child is to abstain from it most of the time. And that's something I think our culture has lost. If a child loves something, we want to give it to them again and again -- and it loses its appeal because it isn't special anymore.

So, I will spoil Wendy and John at Christmas. Because -- other than a birthday gift -- I don't give them stuff throughout the year. Other people do, unfortunately, especially the begging Wendy because John's parents are much firmer and don't allow constant gift-giving, but not me.

So what did I buy for the kids' Christmas this year?

Wendy gets a Skitter and an Active Live Outdoor Games Wii game. Got to keep that couch potato active any way I can make it happen. :) I gave John a Skitter for his birthday and she loved it and has been begging for one, so I know that will be a hit -- and hopefully she'll love the Wii game and stay active all winter because of it.

John's is a little more interesting. After much thought and much online research into the world of Thomas and his little train friends, I finally settled upon a set and an expansion kit that I thought made the most sense for him. I could have saved myself the trouble. My brother took him out window-shopping several days after I had made my purchase and while looking at the Thomas stuff, he kept pointing to one particular set and saying, "Want THAT one!" My brother pointed out set after set, but he kept returning to the one set. My brother called to see which one I'd chosen -- and wonder of wonders, the set I had purchased was the same one that John has his heart set on. Hooray! And now whenever you ask him what he wants for Christmas, his answer (except for the occasional time when he still answers Disney World!) is a firm, "THOMAS." He should have a happy Christmas. :)

He also gets some floor puzzles and Disney's Robin Hood on DVD. He loves Peter Pan so much that I thought Robin Hood might also have some appeal...

(The Black Friday sale on the Thomas stuff is buy one get one free. I got it two weeks ago for 40% off. Which I actually think is a better sale because you aren't forced to buy two sets to get the discount! See? Who needs Black Friday?)

So... I'm ready for Christmas. Are you? :)

Best iPod Apps for Toddlers with Speech Delays

As a speech therapist doing early intervention with toddlers in their homes, sometimes it's helpful to have a trick or two in my back pocket for those times when attention just can't be held any other way. And so, an iPod has become my newest best friend. But while there are some really wonderful apps available for language-learning toddlers, I have scoured the web looking for recommendations and find them very poor. There are recommendations for toddlers or preschoolers, recommendations for so-called "learning activities" for this age range, but I just don't have the same idea of what constitutes a good learning activity as most people. Yes, there are preschool apps galore for "teaching" colors and shapes and letters and numbers, but most of these I don't honestly find to be all that great, and our speech-delayed little ones need more basic skills than that anyway.

So for any other speech therapists out there looking for app recommendations for their own iPod or iPhone, or for parents of little ones with speech disorders who are looking for something new to use with them, here are my recommendations. Keep in mind that I don't view these apps as something to hand the child and expect them to soak up learning from; the intent is for an adult to sit with the child and use the app as a teaching tool -- but the adult is still the one doing the talking and the teaching!!

1) Peekaboo Barn. ($1.99, lite version free)
I love this one. Absolutely love it. There are many apps with animals and their sounds, and some of those are nice too, but I love that this one makes the child think. An animal is shut up inside the barn. The child listens to the animal sound and guesses which animal it is. Touch the barn and the animal appears. It's great for so many things -- working on simple animal names and sounds, focused listening skills, answering questions ("Who is in the barn?") -- and kids LOVE it and will play again and again. At the end of the paid version, the animals go to sleep, so you can work on simple words and sounds like "Shhh" and "ninight" as well. The only fault I find with this app is that while inside the barn, the animal sounds are very quiet, making the app unusable with our kids with mild hearing loss or even just an ear infection.

2) SmackTalk! ($.99)
Have a quiet little one that you just can't seem to motivate to talk? Try this fun app. Talk into the device and a guinea pig, kitty, or puppy will say it back to you in their own fun modified way! Gets even the quietest toddler yapping away! Note: If you're using an iPod touch, you'll need a microphone.

3) Baby Sign ASL and Signing Time (both are $4.99, but both have free lite versions)
I list these together since they obviously both work on teaching kids to sign, and because I can't choose a favorite. The free versions will be enough to start your kids off, and if you find that they love one or the other and have learned all the signs offered for free, then you know where your money should go. I only wish that Signing Time would add some of their wonderful Baby Signing Time songs to this app!

4) Wheels on the Bus ($.99)
This is a wonderful interactive storybook app, with tons of verses to this popular children's song! When used with an adult, this can be a very language-rich activity with simple words that children can imitate ("poke" the bear; the horn goes "beep beep"; "pop pop pop" the bubbles; "tickle tickle" the bird; etc.) and some great concepts are included too. (Open and shut the doors; make the bus go fast and slow, etc.) The same company also makes Itsy Bitsy Spider and Old MacDonald which you might also want to give a try, but I've found Wheels on the Bus to be the most usable and fun for the kids!

5) Toddler Flashcards -- itot apps ($.99)
There are tons of flashcard apps available, all of interest to kids, but this one is my favorite because the cards are categorized (another great language skill) and they say the words for the child so this is the one app you can turn your child loose with if you must!

6) Make your own!
I don't know how to make my own app, but I do know how to make the music and photo features of the iPod work for me! I have long used and loved the music from Kids Express Train but have been frustrated at the difficulty involved in bringing music into a home, setting it up properly, etc., just to find and play the one song I need to work on a particular skill with a child. Therefore I haven't used the songs nearly as often as I'd like -- but the iPod has changed that. I uploaded my CDs to my iPod and now they are all just a touch away! And even better, a few minutes on Google's image search and I had pictures to go with my favorite songs. For example, do you have a child working on final consonant deletion? Play "Put the Sound on the End" and whip out a folder with pictures of the 15 words practiced in the song. Kids will want to play it -- and practice!! -- again and again. Voila -- your own speech therapy app!

Have some suggestions for me to try out!? Please leave them in the comments section! (Just don't recommend Preschool Adventure/Arcade!! Seems to be everyone's top recommendation, but I'm not impressed. They're okay... just in my opinion, not the wonderful teaching tools everyone else seems to think they are!)

And Michelle Makes Six

As an advocate for Compassion International, I volunteer to work at the Compassion table at local events. A dangerous position for me, to lay out or pass out packets of several hundred children in need of a sponsor, because I invariably find myself wishing I could sponsor at least half of them. But I must show restraint. I have five sponsored children already. I just can't take another.

Saturday I was working an event when a startling picture caught my eye. It looked like my little niece Wendy was laid out amidst all the dark-skinned dark-haired brown-eyed boys and girls on the table. I snatched up the packet to take a closer look. Sure enough, a little girl with blonde ponytails and light eyes looked back at me.

Everyone marveled over her. The official Compassion point person, who travels from one event to another to do this very job, who has seen thousands of child packets, even said she had never ever seen a blonde haired Compassion child before. It was clear that this child was really something special.

I laid her back on the table and said a little prayer that she would find a sponsor that day.

I kept an eye on her even during our busiest times at the table. When people swarmed the table and shoved forms and checks our way and peppered us with questions, still I kept glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. Person after person picked her up. And person after person set her back down.

At lunch, I started to contemplate sponsoring her myself for the first time. I remembered my little Rebecca in Uganda -- a child whose family brings home about a dollar a day to feed their family of ten or more -- who told me that she is praying for God to triple my income. The question of being able to afford to sponsor another child seemed ridiculous in light of that thinking. These kids have nothing. I have so much. Of course I can sponsor one more.

But should I? I prayed again for little Michelle to find a sponsor. If she wasn't meant for me, the right person should take her. But if by day's end she was still on the table, I would know God intended her for me.

Guess what. She's mine.

Welcome to the family, little Michelle from Colombia. I can't wait to see what amazing things God is going to do through you.

Want to sponsor a child?

My Shorts Smell Like Poor People

One day this summer, I'd just gotten home from work and a friend wanted to do something. "Well, give me a minute to change clothes first," I replied. "My shorts smell like poor people."

I said it without thinking for it was entirely true. I can't explain the smell but there is a SMELL of poverty. And when you spend time in the midst of it, especially sitting on the floors of impoverished homes, the smell clings to your clothing. It just does.

My friend just laughed and laughed, thinking the statement the funniest thing she'd heard in a long time. But really, it isn't funny. The sentence has come back to me from time to time, and I've spent some time dwelling on the deeper meaning behind it. For there is deeper meaning. But somehow, it never seemed the time to blog about it.

Today, suddenly, it is. The Compassion bloggers are on their way to El Salvador to see what Compassion is doing in that country, and to share it with the rest of us throughout the week. And you know what? I bet their shorts are going to smell like poor people. And that's okay. Because sometimes you have to get right in the middle of it, you have to wear the smell of poverty, before the need and the compassion to meet those needs can really sink into your heart.

You too can have shorts that smell like poor people. Just dive in. Pour your heart into one of these needy little ones, and carry the smell of poverty proudly. It will change your life.

Happy Halloween

Our little tykes decided to be venomous and villainous this year.

Wendy is a bumblebee.

And John? None other than Captain Hook!

More Overheards...

Having already begged most of the adults in the family to take her outside to play, Wendy tried Grandma as a last resort. Grandma doesn't set foot outside the house. But still, Wendy thought she'd try.

"Grandma, pleeeeeease take me outside to play!!"

Grandma replied, "Noooo, I'm too old. Go ask someone else."

"No, you're not!" protested Wendy. "You're the PERFECT AGE!"

Who knew? For the record, 58 is the perfect age for taking children outside to play. Mark it down.

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"What do you want for Christmas, John?" I asked. Wendy always wants something. Littlest Pet Shops. Webkinz. Some fad toy that she already has a million of. But John hasn't gotten the hang of figuring out what he wants and asking for it yet, when it comes to distant gifts. Still, I thought I'd try.

As it turns out, John totally has it figured out. He's a very wise boy. His immediate response?

"Disney World!"

I like the way that kid thinks. :)

"Disney World!?" I answered in astonishment.

As if to clarify, he nodded his head and uttered: "Pooh Bear! Peter Pan! DUMBO!"

Yep. He knows what he wants. Too bad he's not going to get it. Do you think Santa would bring it for all of us? :)

Overheard... by Wendy and her parents

After discussing that her mommy was 29, Wendy was asked, "Wendy, what do you think you'll be doing when you're 29?"

Without missing a beat, she replied, "Shopping a lot."

She is her mother's daughter.

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"You can buy something with your tooth fairy money if you want to," her stepfather said. "But just make sure you don't buy something you already have. We have a house, not a warehouse."

"What's a warehouse?" asked Wendy, then before anyone could answer, "Is it a house for wolves?"

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And the next one is by Wendy's mother...

I called and said, "I need Wendy a particular weekend in January. You don't have anything planned for then, do you?"

Wendy's mother: "Nooo... where are you going?"

Me: "Well there's this blind museum..."

Wendy's mother, interrupting with excitement: "OHHHH, she'll LOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE that, she LOOOOOOVES blind stuff!"

How many seven-year-olds do you know would be enthusiastic over going to a museum of the blind?

(She loves blind stuff because she adores and associates herself with Mary Ingalls. Still and all, I didn't expect her mother to get excited about me taking her to a blind museum before I even got the information out that the REASON for taking her to this blind museum was a birthday party for Mary! Now that's something to get excited about!! And we are!!)

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And on that note, I'll share the best "overheard" of all: from Wendy's stepfather, this summer when I went to pick her up to go on our big Little House trip --

"Hey... do you all like Laura Ingalls Wilder?"

Assuming that to be some sort of a joke, I ignored it, rushing Wendy out the door while snatching up her prairie dress and sunbonnet, and Charlotte doll.

And then he repeated the question. And this time it sounded awfully serious. Like, he was NOT joking. (And he KNEW where we were going, we'd been talking about it for months!)

I just looked at him for a moment, then slowly answered, "Um... yes... that's why we're going on this big trip to her home..."

"OH!" he says. "Well I was driving the truck through Wisconsin last week and I saw a sign about Laura Ingalls Wilder, and I thought to myself, Hmm, I'm thinking you like her, I better remember to tell you about it."

Where has he been!?!?!?

The View

I've been looking at thousands upon thousands of rental homes for our family's vacation next summer, and examining their location on the map for proximity to the ocean... and all those google map images, zooming in as close as possible to measure how many feet the walk to the beach is, and zooming out to see where in the big picture each house is must have crossed the barrier into my subconscious mind.

In that stage between wakefulness and sleep, when you're still conscious enough to think but your thoughts blur and don't quite make sense, I had this thought.

When I'm examining google maps, the middle ground on the zoom button doesn't do me a whole lot of good.

I zoom way in to find out what I need to know specifically about the house in question and its distance from the beach access. And I zoom way out to see where in the grand scheme of things this house is located. But the middle? It doesn't tell me anything much.

And somehow, in that dreamy stage before sleep, I got to thinking about how this is sort of like our view as humans, and God's view, of our lives. We get the way zoomed in view of our life -- we see it up close and personal, in the here and now, what today looks like. God gets the way zoomed out view of our life -- he sees today, and our life as a whole, in the grand scheme of things -- the plan for the universe. So we both have very different views of the exact same thing (except of course that He knows the zoomed in view as well since He's omniscient...).

But there's a third view -- the middle ground. From this view, you can see the bigger picture -- in a way. It's not a big enough picture to give you any true knowledge about the location's place in the universe. And it's not a small enough picture to give you any intimate knowledge about the details in the here and now. Basically, your view is almost useless.

And I thought that maybe -- just maybe -- that is representative of others' view of our life. They see parts of it, and they see it from a bigger viewpoint than we ourselves do because they are outside of our personal frame of reference. But they don't see the BIG picture either. They see just about enough to make them feel like they have the authority to make judgments, yet not enough to truly have any authority to do so.

Don't we do this all the time? We judge people by what we see and think of as a bigger picture? Someone shares their thoughts on a certain subject, or a particular happening in their lives, and we think we know better than they do what's really going on.

I guess we're all going to have our opinions on other people's decisions and actions, but before we act on those opinions (by stating them to the person or to others, or by treating someone differently because of our opinions on what's going on), maybe we ought to remind ourselves that we have neither the big picture nor the detailed one. Maybe -- just maybe -- we don't know it all. Maybe we know just enough to get us into trouble.

Or maybe I've just been looking at too many maps.