The Day I Killed Santa

My friend Jen Hatmaker has the BEST blog posts. (And by friend, I kinda mean, like, I know her. Like, she's an adoption mommy friend. Or really, like, she kinda posts on our yahoo group board occasionally and I follow her on facebook. So kinda like she has no clue who I may be. But hey, I'm still callin friend rights.)

SO, my friend Jen posted the following post a couple weeks back that immediately went viral and was reposted, retweeted, and read outloud on media outlets across the country.

The Christmas Conundrum

And it made me think, really think - what have we done right, or wrong in bringing our brood up to celebrate the season correctly? or incorrectly?

So the afternoon of me reading the above post about the cons of creating the god-image of Santa Claus --- who often trumps our kid's own God-image of the Christ child and his reason for coming on that night 2000 years ago --- my littlest angel says to me:

"Mommy, is there, or is there not a real Santa Claus??? Tell me the troof. Cause JoJo says there is a Santa Claus and Nicky says there is not!"

And at that moment I had a decision to make -
1) lie to my child, or bend the 'troof' again or
2) take this newfound wisdom and run with it. So I ran.

"Well honey, many, many years ago there was a man named Nickolas. And he loved Jesus SOOOO much that he would make and give presents to children on Jesus' birthday because he loved him so much."

Angel - "So the Santa at the mall is not real?"

"No, the Santa at the mall is just a man who is dressed up and is pretending to be that man who lived so long ago, because he was such a good man....... and loved Jesus so much"

Angel - "So that man lived a long, long, long time ago??"

"Yes Baby. He lived a long, long time ago."

Angel (in an octave and volume slightly higher than a 757 engine -
"SO SANTA IS DEAD!!!!!???!!!!!!!!!!!!!???!!!!!!!!!!!!"

aye-ya-ya. So that my friends, is how to gently kill Santa. Feel free to take notes if needed. The cost of later therapy is entirely your responsibility. Merry Christmas!

Precious Photos

May I just point out the precious children captured in this perfect photograph??

And may I also point out the status of how valuable a digital camera is with 3 children?? And the sheer beauty of capturing the perfect picture? When you have faces like these ------

With these gorgeous eyes ---------


Or these loving looks ---------




And these award-winning smiles -----------


Or with expert (but unplanned) prop placements ----------------


It's only with the most precious photos that we capture the preciousness of these children ----

6 snaps to get 1 good shot...
can you imagine how much footage I'll go through when we increase the child number to 4??? Although if you evaluate the above, I think it may be one child in particular that I am having the most difficulty with??

A Real Champion

Have fun. Honor God. Hustle. -- the team motto. The goal being not only to win - but to train up strong boys to have respect, to love God, and to be role models for others. He loved playing on the team. But as time went on, struggles started to show. Self esteem. Confidence. Domino affect of missed balls and fumbled plays. Traveling on weekends. Finding churches in random towns. Returning home Sunday nights. Until --- he tells me: I miss church. I remind him, we haven't stopped going. Just busy traveling. He tells me: I think that's why I've not been doing good. God is trying to tell me to quit the team. I tell him - then you need to think it over, pray about it, and let us know what you want to do. It needs to be your decision. But why do you think that? He tells me: Church just feels right. Like it is where I am suppose to be. Because I think I have been thinking too much about baseball. And not enough about Jesus. 

Three weeks later, the last tournament of the season. After a good game. With good performance. He tells his Daddy: I think I need to tell coach this is my last game. We have to buy uniforms soon. And I would rather that money go toward bringing home my baby sister. Cause that's more important to me than baseball anyway. I am so proud of my player. Cause I think that in the real game, he stepped up to the plate and he hit a grand slam. And while we will miss the experience and the friendships - the experience of having my son show a maturity and an understanding so beyond his years - that experience will be cherished in this mommy's heart far longer than any trophy gathering dust on the top of a dresser. Who knows what the future holds, or what battles he may face. But to see the way God is starting to work on him already - I can't wait to see what position he plays on HIS team. 1 Corinthians 9:25 "Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever."

Bad things come in threes?

Oh Lord, I hope not. The runner-up for first ER visit of 2011 goes to......

Seth

Who won with the assistance of his best friend and a precisely thrown plastic cup. How very nice of them to arrange our visit the same week as Addison's ER debut to cut down on follow-up doctor's appointments for me. At home viewing his freshly glued gash for the first time.Little man was pretty nervous. Pretty scared. Very scared. Scared to death of having to get stitches. Triage nurse says - they can't glue the head. He might be o.k. But might have to have staples. His eyes tear up. ER nurse says - they can't glue the head. He might be o.k. But might have to have staples. He clams up and stares at the TV. Physicians assistant says - they can't glue the head. He might be o.k. But might have to have staples. He completely shuts down and wont speak to anyone. Good old boy country doctor says - We could staple it. hmmm, how you feel about me just gluing it??? Seth says - YES SIR!!!!!!! And breaks out in the biggest smile I have seen in about two years. The Dr. also offered to glue his lips shut to reduce my grocery bill but I declined, seeing that my child is about 1/2 the size of other children his age as it is. Kid got a strawberry milkshake on the way home just to try use the occasion to fatten him up more. And I am SO proud. No ---- not with Seth. With ME. I am a fainter. And have been since high school. I see blood and my heart races and breathing increases. But when you see your 10 year old come out the door with blood running down his face in every direction, and Daddy isn't there to save the day - something about that situation allowed me to stay upright, amazingly. I even washed his entire blood-covered face and hair off to find the gash (which was over an inch long). And it was still bleeding BAD. Chalk one more up to 'things I never want to have to do again'. Especially this week. Or even the next. Braeden will now be wearing a football helmet and pads indefinitely to avoid any semblance of another head injury. I don't want to test the 'theory of threes' any further..

And the first ER visit of 2011 goes to......

Miss Addison. Who kindly scheduled her first debut at approximately 10 pm --- after being at the ball field all day, with us all still sweaty and smelly, and tired beyond belief. Great date night for her daddy and I, to be hanging out with the county's miserable until 1 am.

(this morning after a good bit of swelling had gone down. You'll have to excuse the hair -- No - it is NOT that greasy/dirty. The photo is right after her bath during her first band-aid switch-a-roo. The three stitches will be fashionably covered by Hello Kitty bandages tomorrow)

Running Girl = 0
Chair = 1

To catch a leprechaun..

You take one little boy with a class assignment ...

Add 30 minutes of quiet time (where did he go???) .....

And without an ounce of parental assistance or direction .....

You get the Leprechaun Holiday Inn - Braeden style!!!

Beauty Bravery

For those of you who have met my youngest -- you would agree, she is strong-willed, assertive, prissy, and very much in charge of our household (or so she thinks). She is mommy's sidekick and loves to shop, even if it is just for groceries. And she has Daddy wrapped around her bejeweled little finger, turning on the big fat tears if he should so much as raise a voice to her.. So when she gave me the "why don't I have my ears pierced Mommy??" "Lauren has her ears pierced... Christina has her ears pierced... why don't I have my ears pierced????" It starts this young????? So we took a trip to Claires. And she watched another 4 year old get their ears punched. And shook her head no as we made our way to the clip-on section. Fast forward a couple more months and out of no-where - while putting the boys to bed I hear a little voice from her room -- "pssst Mommy. Mommy! I was scared before, but now I'm not. I weally, weally want to have my ears pierced" So we had planned to go on Monday, but it snowed. Then Tuesday after a drs appt, but they canceled, the wednesday, but it was still icy. Sooooo, on Thursday after four days of "when can we goooooooo?" we escaped this trap of a house and headed to Claires again... I'm expecting a dramatic performance. Before -- all smiles. She picked out Hello Kitty earrings but low and behold, Hello Kitty is the newest "in" fashion and Claires had none to be found. So we go for pink rhinestone flowers. Still smiling...Pop!........ Pop!...... No tears!!!! I am in complete shock. Sometimes a girl just has to put her foot down and suck it up to show themselves worthy of being a big girl. I am one proud mommy. Now if only we could do the 4 Africa immunizations just as easily..

Brownie Points

For Christmas we always go 'home' to my parent's house in N.C. They live on a beautiful little country farm with relatives dotting the gravel road to their house.

This year, we were excited at the chance a White Christmas. As most of you know, South Carolina is not snow central. We did get a couple inches last February but by noon the next day, it was mostly gone and the boys were in short sleeves. We let them play outside at 11 pm the night of the snow as we knew it had precious few hours of life left..

So when it started with flurries on Christmas around lunchtime, the kids were pumped. By sunset is was so deep, and so cold, that driving home from great grandmas was becoming scary. The kids were still begging to go outside and crying "but it will be gone in the morning!!!" The next day however was a winter wonderland. Mommy was pumped. It didn't snow often when we were little but my favorite memories are of suiting up in 4 layers thick, putting sandwich bags on under mittens, and pulling on the rubber boots. And sledding. I love sledding. Which our 1 inch last February really didn't afford. And since the roads are usually bad when NC gets snow - I can't drive the kids to play in it. So for us to be there, with them out of school.... yeah!!! Don't worry, he has sandwich bags under those high tech gloves.. "you know you're from South Carolina when....."
So after approximately 2 hours of outside play, the men folk decided that with the 17 degrees it would getting to that evening, and the drive home we were 'suppose' to do the next day - it might be better if we left early so that we drove on the cleared roads vs. the iced over roads. What??? And leave now??? But Tony needed to be at work on Tuesday. I wanted to cry, seriously..

So we left. And came home. The kids pouting. Mommy pouting. Addison told me the next morning that "she was weally mad at me". Not MY fault!!! We came home to large patches of yard already showing in our front lawn... Not funny at all. All I could think of was how we had cheated my kids out of a humongous childhood memory. It was Christmas. It snowed. We played once. Mom and Dad made us go home.

So I wake up the next morning and check the roads for both states - clear and moving well. I pack about a zillion more layers of clothes in a laundry basket and back out on the road we go. 3 1/2 more hours, $75 more in gas, and we are back in wonderland!!!!

So we sled, and sled some more, and then make tracks with Papaw's 4 wheeler to sled some more the next day. So the NEXT day - we sled on the iced paths (the boys thinking it was funny to make paths to run me into trees at the bottom of the hill), and then sled some more, and then realize we are pooped from trudging up those heels so go on a four wheeler ride back into the fields where we go over and around hills and trees and come upon deer tracks. Which the boys and I then track about 14 miles into the woods (maybe an exaggeration... maybe). But none the less, a really fun hike. (If I could have gotten images of hungry coyote or a misplaced bear jumping out onto the path in front of us to go away, it would have been much more fun for mom.)

So now I earned my 'good mommy of the year' badge. And had a wonderful winterland time doing it. But I also was extremely irresponsible and skipped out on 3 appointments I had scheduled the last day we were there .... oh well, brownie points are more valuable than Medicaid payments any old day. But especially on snow days.

A child-like faith

So the other day I got schooled by my son. And it really makes me proud that he called me out.

But first things first - I need to announce that if you haven't noticed the side thermometer - we MET our goal of $5630 for our referral fee!! In little increments of $10-$30 from Olivia's store!! And a few sweet donations to boot.

A referral fee is the last amount of money you pay to 'seal the deal' when you get your baby's photo and history - THE CALL. The money helps pay court costs, medical costs, and everyday orphanage care for our child.

Anyway, you get THE CALL and then have to return your acceptance papers and $5630 in just a few days. So to have this money in the bank thrills me.

So when the boys found out that a holiday market at their school had pushed us to $5628 they were so excited and wanted to know - "NOW can we go get her!". Well no, not now. We still have to wait til we're number one and then we'll be able to give them the money to accept her. (which by the way, we are now #12, I think)

To which Seth asked, "so then how much more money do we need?"

Me: "Well, we need a minimum of about $10,000. And that's just for me and your daddy to go on the first trip and me on the second."

Him: (in a huff) "so you're just hoping that you'll get enough money for you and dad to go!!"

Me: "It's not really hoping Seth. I have faith that God will provide enough for us to go."

Him: (now mad) "so you don't have enough faith that God will give us enough money for us all to go see her! You should have enough faith that he can give enough for us all to go!!!"


To which I had to give it to him - yes - I would love for my kids to be able to go with us to meet their sister, play with the children at the orphanages, see poverty first-hand, and hopefully birth in them a desire and love for God's children who are so often forgotten. I would love for them to go on this trip so that they will never forget.

But no - I guess I don't have the faith that God would provide for those tickets too. Cause that's a lot of money. And He's already done so much for us. How much more can I ask Him for??

However, as I told Tony - what lesson will I be teaching Seth if I push him to dream small? Isn't this entire adoption a huge dream to begin with? And what if he really does have God telling his little heart that he will go on this trip? And I tell him he needs to just ignore that?

So the question is now - do we take that big leap of faith and tell him "come on buddy, let's go get that passport..." or do we sit back and wait to see if God moves on that front too?

Being an adult stinks. I wish I had the child-like version of this faith journey all the time..

An infestation!!!!!

The other morning I woke up to a rodent infestation.

They were everywhere.

In my jean drawers...


In my p.j. drawer....


Even on my bathroom ceiling....


And a week later, they haven't moved at all....

And why do I allow these miniature critters to continue to greet me every morning??

Because it cracks me up that such a plot could have been orchastrated by such a sweet little thing as this.... it just isn't possible.....



Or such an angelic face as this.... no way would HE have planned such an attack...



Angels. My little angels. That crack me up.

Although I may need to take down the bathroom mice as visitors may not find it as funny as I do that rodents are stuck to my ceiling. Real or not.

(And Braeden's black and blue forehead and cheek - Seth hit him with the dog lead. By accident. Because he was laying on the ground. And when I called Tony to tell him that we had just narrowly avoided another ER visit -- he immediately asked "what did Braeden do???" How did he know??)

But I prayed to Jesus..

Oh mama has it started. The drama. The whining. The princess performance.

My angelic 4 year old has now turned into a 30 something pound 16 year old. Whippee.

So now cue the pickiness that seems to go along with royalty; add one mama who's job it is to 'fix' said finickiness at the dinner table; and you get something very akin to World War II.

So while I love to cook meals that are at least somewhat healthy, my daughter has now decided that she would much rather just go to McDonald's thank-you-very-much. And here comes the part where my long time rule of "you eat what I cook or you just choose not to eat" vs. "I am the tiny princess of this home and you will cater to me" come into conflict.

Now mind you, I am a professional. Trained to deal with food issues, sensory issues, behavioral feeding problems. But trained to stand-off with a 4 year old who has decided she doesn't like anything with hints of tomatoes, speckles of green herbs, or slivers of onions - this has been testing my skills.

After a few meals of her picking around her food and just complaining, she has now moved on up to the heavy-weight round with the induced gagging. Usually with a bite of food in her mouth (that Tony has made her try). And she sits beside me. Cue mother induced gagging.

And I am now at the point of my story - our prayers. Heaven help us.

The other night I had made a homemade lasagna. And not the mommy-love kind with spinach but the daddy-love kind with sausage sauce and meat. Not my favorite but sometimes a girl just feels like being generous. Anyway, first, princess laments the minuscule onion she finds, then the specks of green basil, and then pretty much just rejects the whole lot and can't even find redemption in a plain ole noodle.

The king of the house orders said princess to make a choice, "eat your dinner or go to bed". And then goes to the ballpark. Thanks. Hand down a sentence then leave it up to me to do your dirty work. So after 30 minutes of sitting at the cleared table with only her plate of untried lasagna in front of her, I am working at the computer with my back to her refusing to listen to the whining about how awful it is. "Not listening to you... nah, nah, nah, nah."

Until - she starts gagging. To which I tell her I KNOW it isn't that bad. Nothing is in it to make her sick and she needs to quit. She then tells me, in the midst of tears running down her face, with complete sincerity...

"but I pwayed to Jesus like Bwaeden did that I wouldn't get sick.... but it didnnnnnn't woooook"

Explanation - Braeden had prayed to Jesus that his upset tummy would feel better in the morning. However, Jesus doesn't seem to respond as well to little girls gagging on lasagna. Lesson learned. Maybe he likes Italian??

And the moral of this story is, if you sit in front of a plate of uneaten lasagna for one hour, you are then sent to your room to p.j.'s and a warm cozy bed. And a big breakfast.The princess. It is her world, we are just allowed to live in it.

Destined for Greatness

My middle son must be destined for greatness. He will be a missionary. A pastor. The chairman of a major children's charity. Something.

Why??
Because he has had a fish hook in his eye, which #1 didn't hit his eyeball, and #2 fell out miraculously after a prayer for Jesus to help.

and

Because he fell from the monkey bars, passed out, went blue, was unresponsive. We were sure he had broken his neck. 30 minutes later he was running around the emergency room unscathed.

and

Has had his pointer finger swell up to about three times it's size. It was MRSA infected. And it didn't fall off, as it looked like it would.

and now

Because he fell in a yellow jackets nest this past weekend. Stepped right in this hole. And didn't get stung a single time.

God has His eye on him. Destined for greatness I tell you. And as long as that doesn't involve community organizing or elections - I will be very thrilled about that....

(this picture cracks me up every time I look at it. This is a photo this poor Asian couple took during their visit at Biltmore. Little man thought that he should be remembered for posterity's sake obviously. I just happen to quickly get a shot of his posing for them too. Little cheeser.)

Dumpster Diven'

I'm almost embarrassed to write this post, almost... but as not so much embarrasses me anymore (too many years married to Tony??) - here goes...

In an attempt to journal the crazy things my kids do, I couldn't leave this nugget of information out as I'm sure my son will greatly appreciate my sharing when he is trying to get a date or get into a good college.

He's an addict. And I'm o.k. with that (most of the time). My son is a dumpster diver. There. I said it. He loves to go with his Daddy to the county dump on Saturday to "hunt for treasure". And he's proud of it.

Since I'm not a dumpster diver myself, as I understand it, there is a special "Treasure Dumpster" where he finds his stash. He's come home with an ambulance, goggles you "can see race cars in!!!", barely used bikes, which his Daddy then changes out a seat on or replaces a tire tube in - and they're good as new. They have then given these bikes to neighborhood kids that don't have bikes, or taken them to Goodwill. Tony's highlights of the year were a real barber's chair to cut the kid's hair, and a good as new pitching machine for the ball team. Like son, like Daddy.

Now that I have completely grossed you out that we allow our son to bring home treasures from the county dump, (and most likely secured it that you wont let your kids play with my kid's toys anymore..) let me get to the point...

We Americans throw away half a pizza un-eaten, left-overs that we 'just don't feel like eating again tomorrow', shoes that were 'so old I had them in high school'. And yet still, we often are able to say, without a hint of sarcasm, that we can't afford to help out children in poverty. It amazes me. Even in a recession/depression, as we tighten our belts and watch our money more carefully, we still have more than we need. But maybe not all that we want.

In a personal reference letter a great friend wrote for me for my adoption packet, he wrote that I was "passionate for social justice." And that made me cringe. Social justice today has come to mean Michelle Obama's pie explanation - we need to take some of your slice of pie to give to someone else who doesn't have as much pie. And while that imagery fits - it is still wrong.

Today's social justice in America is - the government taking what they think is your excess, and (wastefully spending) on those that don't have an excess. And that, to me - is not justice, that's stealing.

But how much good could we do if instead of being forced to give, our wages stolen out of our hand and given to another - that we would be known as a Christian society that instead just gives. To hang on to our excess, to turn our eyes from those in need because we never know when we may need that extra money, is not Christlike. That's more like greed.

Because even if my husband is laid off again, even if my car is repo-ed, even if we have our house fore-closed on and have to rent a smaller place - we still have more than we need. And that's painful to realize.

So my little son - we are so, so blessed that you can find your treasures at the dump. That you can smile over a new toy. We are so, so blessed that our children have more than they need. That they have more than one meal a day and it does not come from a garbage pile. Just something to think about in these tough economic times.

As we are able to bring gently used items home to our clean home, soak them down with Lysol and anti-bacterial wipes --- there are thousands of children around the world who don't have that luxury. Their treasures are not used bikes, or push toys - but scraps of food. Food that is needed just to make it to the next day. To another day of scavenging on the streets, or the city dump. This is the images that have been on my mind lately - a place in the very city I visited in Africa. I place that I didn't know about until recently. A place that many of the orphans that come into agency placement may come from.

"Once our eyes are opened, we can't pretend we don't know what to do. God, who weighs our hearts and keeps our souls, knows what we know, and holds us responsible to act."
Proverbs 24:12



What is it that God would have you to do with that which he has given you?
Help others to have clean water Sponsor a child in another country give to a poor village help mother's and babies in need provide help for street orphans give a barefoot child a pair of shoes

Middle Child whoops

While perusing through all the old birthday posts, I realized that my middle child must not have turned 7 this year. Either that or his mother completely forgot to blog about it. Which, there's no way THAT could have happened.

What is even more startling is the fact that his birthday was accompanied by a true miracle in the state of South Carolina. It snowed..... A Lot...

So my middle son, who not only received the miracle of Jesus helping a fish hook fall out of his eye unscathed - he also thinks he received the miracle of God making it snow JUST FOR HIS BIRTHDAY. And 'aint nobody telling him any different!

We had planned his first sleep-over. Which turned out to be a bust as no one would send their children to our house to sleep over if there was the chance of more than 1/4 of an inch of snow falling! I mean - we can't go out to get milk during a blizzard like that - why would we be able to go retrieve our child?? A snow that deep and the poor child may be stuck at my house for at least a week!!

But, the Lord has blessed us with A LOT of neighbors. With A LOT of boys. So we were able to go celebrate in Braeden's birthday snow, that God sent just for him. Staying up late throwing snowballs and tackling each other. Until about noon when it had all melted away anyway....

Happy Late, Very Late, Birthday Little Man!!!

(he's rejoicing that at least his mentally impaired mother remembered to get a present or two. And the fact that he no longer has to wear hand-me-down skates but has his own pair. It's tough being a middle child.)

A Do-It-Yourself Birthday

I need to give a shout-out to all you summer babies:
- who throw parties no one every comes to; except the obligatory cousins
- whose mom never brought cupcakes into school for your birthday
- whose friends don't call as they are usually at the beach or pool
- whose birthday party gets melded together with a family vacation or pool get-together. "Let's go to Carowinds this weekend...... oh yeah, for your birthday!! Aren't you special!!"

It's a sad, sad situation I know. For I too - was a summer baby. And I'm still trying to heal from the resentment I feel. And I swore I would never, never, ever do it to one of my kids.

Till I started working in the public school system. And had student loans. And was a newlywed. And wanted a baby. But needed it to come in the summer so I wouldn't have as many days with no pay. Cause we was 'Po. With a capital P.

So Seth - my millennium baby - was destined to be a summer baby too. I'm so sorry baby. You missed Y2K power outages but still suffer the effects of an ill-timed pregnancy..

Poor baby had to decorate his own cake....

Find and light his own candles.....

Make his own birthday hat (much cooler than a cone I must say)...

And even provide his own decorations.....


Happy Birthday to my gorgeous 10-year old!!! If mommy could just freeze time so you wouldn't have to have anymore summer birthdays (and could just stay this age) I would. Cause every year you grow older, it adds about 5 on to my middle aged parent meter... I Love you!