She's Alive!

Did any of the rest of you forget that this Sunday is Mother's Day?  I did . . . but then again, I was raised by a woman who was offended by the idea of Mother's Day.  Offended that card companies had to "come up with a made up holiday" so that people could show their mothers that they were loved.  We did nothing for Mother's Day.  She even got annoyed when we sent her cards as adults because we were feeding the monster. 

I guess I don't really care about Mother's Day either.  At least in terms of the chicks and Papa Rooster making a fuss over me.  Ironically enough, Mother's Day is now a time that I think a lot about my mother.  Eleven years ago my mother died.  I am sure she is in heaven wishing I wasn't thinking of her around this made up holiday, but I miss her and I often wish, not just on Mother's Day, that she was here for my sister and me, especially since we have become mothers.

But listen to what happened yesterday.  (I will try to keep this short, but really, you may want to get a glass or mug of your beverage of choice.) I took the chicks to the park.  There were 2 other little girls there, probably about 7 and 9 years old.  Right from the start, they were being ugly to Girlie Chick (who is 6).  I watched and let her handle it herself.  But at some point, it became too much for her to handle and she came to talk to me about it.  She was sad and couldn't understand why these girls were being so mean to her for no reason.  My blood was already on a low simmer from watching them, but I calmly reminded her that some people just aren't nice and that she should ignore them and play with her brothers.  But that isn't Girlie Chick's style.  So she walked over to them and said, "Why are you being mean to me when I am being nice to you?"  (Gotta love my girl.) And do you know what one of them said to her????  She said, " What are you . . . a wittle baby who has to go and tell your mommy when people are mean to you?"  I could see my little girl's eyes go big and her mouth drop open and I am not ashamed to say that my blood moved straight to a rolling boil.  Up I stood, and let's just say that the big eyes and dropped jaws belonged not to my baby, but to those mean girls. 

Now, I had been texting with my sister as this situation was building.  One of her texts said, "Just be sure that you don't tell them that you have a gun in your bag."  (Just to be clear we don't even own a gun so this was a joke.)  What she was referring to was an incident with our Mother . . . years ago.  My sister was getting bullied in 5th grade by a girl named Mary.  Mary was in the fifth grade too, but she was 13 or 14 years old.  She had been in the fifth grade for a while and she was a full grown woman at this point!  My mother had had enough of the bullying and she marched up to the school, found Mary in the hall, and told her to stop bullying my sister because she had a gun in her purse . . . I guess inferring that she would use it!  She didn't have a gun in her purse (I think??) but she could be a bit crazy, especially when it came to her girls.  You just didn't mess with us.

Remembering this story yesterday made me laugh, because really, my mom was just funny.  But also, I realized that although it seems like I don't have the motherly guidance that many of my mom friends have, I do.  She is alive.  Not BESIDE me, but INSIDE me.  I am not the girl who yells at other peoples kids.  I can be a real wimp.  That was my Mom yelling, because at that moment, I needed my fierce mom, and so did Lyndon.

That's my boy . . .

I have to share this story. You might cry so get a Kleenex.

I was driving Red Chick (he's our middle child . . . 4.5 years old) to pre-school today and he was talking to me about Ethiopia. He really wants to go to Ethiopia and was wondering why he couldn't come with us to pick up his new sister. I explained to him that Ethiopia was not necessarily an easy place to take very young children but that we were all going to go as a family when everyone was a bit older. Of course he wanted to know why it wasn't an easy place to go. I told him that he would have to get a lot of shots and that it was a very long flight and that when we were there we had to be careful about things like not drinking the tap water. As you could guess, he wanted to know why we couldn't drink the water in Ethiopia. So I did my best to explain why the water was different there. Red Chick told me that we needed to just send someone there to fix the water so that the children there could drink water like his water here. I assured him that people knew there was a problem but that it was a big problem and it would take a lot of people and a lot of money to fix the situation.

So, he's quiet for a minute. And then, my sweet little blue eyed chick said, "Mommy . . . when you go to Ethiopia to get my sister, you can bring the coins from my train bank. I won't just give you a few. You can take all of them. I want to help fix the water."

Maybe we should all think more like a 4 year old.

Is he kidding me??

Last night was the first meeting for our second home study. We have done all of this before. Our first home study expired less than 2 months ago . . . we have to completely start over.

So, our new, and very sweet social worker, came to the house for our first interview. Did I mention that we have done this before? She was going over the information from our first home study and asking us a few new questions just so we felt like we got our money's worth. Hubby Rooster seemed to be doing fine . . .

Until she asked him to describe me as a mother . . . I did mention that we HAVE DONE THIS BEFORE, right? So here is what he says: "Mama Hen is very.... let's see..... firm. She is the enforcer. She is also very cautious about the kids safety. (2 minute silent pause from everyone . . . I could feel the sweet social worker pulling for me . . . willing Papa Rooster to say something that wouldn't get him in any more trouble than he was already in.) "Oh, and she is the fun and creative one who always comes up with what we do."

That was it.

The interview moved on and the sweet social worker could tell that I was a normal, loving mother. I am not worried about that . . . but what about the kids??? I wondered what they would say if asked the same question.

We went to pick them up from their play time at a friends house. And guess what . . . all three of them ran straight to me and literally climbed my body for kisses and hugs. I had been away from them for a total of 1.5 hours of the entire day. Guess I don't have to ask them.

Am I the enforcer? Absolutely. Am I firm? Of course . . . why make a rule if you don't follow through? Am I worried about their safety? Even when they are sleeping.

But you know what, those things, added together, and I guess, tempered with a little of that fun and creativity Papa Rooster mentioned, equal love in the eyes of my children.

And that is all that matters.

Oh, but don't worry . . . I will be re-preparing Papa Rooster for "part two" next week. I'll be fine, but our sweet social worker? I just don't want her to worry about Papa Rooster . . .

Let's Try This Again

Ok, so some of you may remember that I have done this blogging thing before. Some of you may have even read the old blog. Well, as it turns out, people are creepy. And people are rude. Some people are even creepy and rude. I got some weird comments on the last blog . . . figured out who they were from . . . got creeped out and offended by rudeness . . . took the blog down. I think the creepy rude person has no way of knowing I have this blog now so I am trying again. Having said all that, let me say this:

Dear Nameless, Creepy, Rude Person,
Please do not ruin another blog for me. I don't have a lot of time to create these things so
it really is a pain. Thanks in advance for your cooperation.
Mama Hen

I guess there is another reason why I have been inspired to return to blogging. Some of you may know, and some of you may not, but we have just begun the process of adopting another child. I don't know why, but the adoption process brings out the inner blogger. We are hoping to bring home a 2-3 year old little girl from Ethiopia. It will take somewhere in the neighborhood of 18 months to complete this adoption.

I know some of you are gearing up to comment here . . . but let me stop you for a minute. Let's be clear about a few things.

1. We know that we will have 4 children under the age of 8.
2. We know that our house only has 4 bedrooms.
3. We know that the cost of sending a human being to college is very high.
4. We know that you think our lives are complicated enough.
5. We know that (some of) you think we are crazy.

We also know the joy that adoption (and having biological kids) has brought to us. We know that our family wasn't quite complete. We know that we are blessed beyond measure. We know that this is the right thing for our family, even if you don't understand.

If you have taken all of the above into account, I would love your comments . . . and I look forward to sharing more about our second journey to Ethiopia with you!

Oh, and I will, of course, be posting all of the news that is fit to print, and some that probably isn't, from our chaotic little roost!