Like Jon Snow, we know nothing

I filled out no less than 56 pages for our adoption from foster care application. All manner of personal, medical, housing and financial questions were asked. The state wants to know all the things. So, I parked my butt in the minivan, drove to a wooded park on a sunny day and KNOCKED IT OUT IN 3 HOURS. BOOM!!


Mr.. Hall was less enthusiastic about the paperwork. Revealing your tax information to strangers on a wink and a prayer that there are kids out there, that we can adopt, was something he grumbled at. He's not convinced this will actually work. Most kids in foster care either go back home or are adopted by their foster families. Just adopting from foster care is a least likely scenario. So, all of this may be for nothing and I understand his groaning. I don't care though. I'm not doing anything else right now.


There's a lull in the House of Hall. Our middle son, the genius Mac, has come along nicely with his defiant tendencies, ADHD and giftedness. Very blessed times as of late. Medication and therapy are going super helpful. Him maturing to age 10 helped immensely. Still some struggles, but Rome wasn't molded in a day.


Our oldest, the wee 14 year old Pancake, she's coming along too. All righteous indignation and very much knowing she's correct. Not even a question. Here's a typical conversation.


Me: I don't even want to discuss things with you anymore, you don't listen, you just wait to jump in to...to school  me ...
Pancake: That's because you're wrong.


Hilarious.


The crazy part is I totally remember this at her age. The fighting energies. The good fight fighting energies. I still have them. They continue to serve me well.


I think Mr. Hall and I are really into our kids. We love them and know them. It's a bit weird now. They are shaping who they are, based on their likes and wants. Which again, weird. Little kids are easy, it's all about nap times and snacks. Older kids like to discuss communism and the concept of infinity. All the while rolling their eyes at your aged wisdom when they struggle. Because parents are wrong. Like Jon Snow, we know nothing.


These are good problems to have. Watching our older kids outpace our intellect. Watching them grow and being tall people. Give us lip because we're morons.


We love though. They love too. We all still love each other and share a common, snuggly bond. We genuinely enjoy each other's company. I could not be more blessed.


So yeah, it's time to add more kids. 

the complicated goings on of having a teenage daughter

I've been a mom for 14 years now. At this point, I'm pretty good at it. CASE IN POINT.

I get a call from day care. My littlest, River, age 4, has puked. I get over there. He's sitting on a child size bench. Little tissues clutched in puffy hands, sniffing and looking sad. I'm wrapping up his puke stained clothes and hear it. The sound of more puke coming up. I grab a near by garbage bin and he explodes streams of reds and blues. I say, "Good job throwing up!" This encouragement is needed. He's scared because when you are four and berry vomit is coming out of your mouth--this is not a normal event. So I normalize and praise. NOT horking down berries until you puke is a lesson we'll  save for later. The puking stops. I GET NONE OF IT ON ME OR MY GIGANTIC, FLUFFY WHITE SCARF. Which is around my neck and touching the garbage bin. I'm just that good! 

Bodily fluids are easy. Short people are easy. You are bigger then them. You can often correct things with a time out or a taken toy. My daughter is not short anymore. Argues like her mother as well. You can't really give the 'mommy stink eye' when you are at eye level with your child. Houston, we have a problem here.

It's easy to see her as older than she is. When your child uses big words and talks big ideas you can forget how old they really are. It's amazing how she feels completely right about her own reality. There is so much true in such a life, but very little lived wisdom. And that's where it gets complicated.

I'm a believer in listening to kids and trusting them. Fourteen doesn't mean she's to be automatically discounted. Plus, she's older than her two brothers. It's nice having a deep discussions with another, almost woman, in the house. I can totally see us being friends when she is full grown. 

But for now, the world is largely abstract and she doesn't really care for rules. Which is why she was late for school 10 times last semester. This was not corrected by me cajoling, threatening, yelling or punishing. It took a 'truancy' hearing with the vice principle and the school cop to get her attention. Her age is the age of self centeredness I guess. Reality is like the landscape outside a moving car on the highway. Vague and sometimes pretty to notice if you happen to look that way.

We spoil our children. I know. We do. And I made the mistake of trying to reason and talk to her like a full grown up. All ten times before the truancy hearing.

So when homework was marked late for the 6th week in a row, I switched tactics. I took her phone and she cried and begged. So now, she has the power to earn the phone back with diligent doage of chores and on time homework. So far, much improvement has been noted.

Maybe it's not so complicated after all? 

2 second family hugs are the best

Wake up at 6.30 am. Tired. Didn't wake up in time for crossfit. It'll be a squeeze, but I'll go tonight.


Rustle the middle son Mac. My genius son. Put a kitchen timer next to his head. 10 min to get up or consequence. This keeps me from badgering him. We would use an alarm clock, but even the blaring ones don't rouse him. He slept on living room floor. It works better than his bed he says.  At least this week.


Attempt coffee. Get half of it down. Make oatmeal. Also half. Can't find clean pants so I put on a dress.


Skittle around my daughter Pancake,  whose standing near the stove eating a bagel with peanut butter. She doesn't talk. I go for a side hug, she tenses. At 13, she's not interested in hugs. I don't care. I side hug. We confirm I'm picking her up from volley ball. She makes a joke and I'm so happy. She stopped joking a few months ago and it was tough. But today, a joke. Praise HIS NAME!! With two bites left she puts her dishes in the sink.


My 3 year old son River bellows from upstairs. OPPPPEEEENNN IIITTT!! It being a  wee baby gate for his room. He rattles it with his foot, clutching matchbox cars and plastic Easter eggs. He doesn't want to put them down and open the gate. He has to pee. Desperation sets in. The volume rises.... OOOPPPEEEEN IIITTT!! I go open it. Give him a squeeze and he's off to potty. Still clutching the cars and eggs.


The timer goes off. My genius son is snoring hard. I get a squirt bottle and mist him. Loud snarls spiral up from the nest of blankets. Then he curls up like a caterpillar, trying to go back to sleep. I turn the nozzle from mist to stream. Three squeezes to the forehead and he's up. He stomps downstairs to get dressed. He has 9 min to get to the bus. He's too late for breakfast.


Then there is Ruth. Our wee puppy dog. Dogs are the frickin best!!

My daughter leaves like a ninja. But I see her. I run to the door, flip it open and holler 'BYE SWEETIE...LOVE YOU....HAVE FUN AT SCHOOL.' She barely turns her head but a slight smirk appears.  She heard me.


I go and check on my genius son. He's laying on the bathroom floor. Fake sleeping. I tell him get up or no electronics for a week. I can see his light now. The coma has lifted. The bus carries him to school. 


River announces there is no need for pants today. Underwear day he declares. I leave him with a bowl full of raisin bran and my husband who will get him dressed. Like putting pants on a bucking kangaroo. I head out. I forgot to brush my teeth and couldn't find a hair brush. Pancake hoards and hides them. I brush both when I get to work.


There are a number of tough cases at work. I prescribe mental health medications. I see dementia cases where I can't really help. I feel sad for and with them. I see relentless drug seekers who make me angry. I'm not a vending machine. You don't want to get better, you just want a fix. That's not going to happen in my office. I don't say these things. I say, No. And. We are done,  get out of my office or I'll call security. Because now I'm mad and scared. Addicts can be dangerous. They leave. I'll have to answer to the patient advocate for that.


I see patients who are doing phenomenal. I count the blessings. Coworker lunch goes well. Lots of laughs and support. More patients then done.


Then the kid pick up mambo begins. I start with my daughter from volleyball. She's hunched over, walking forcefully to the car. I can tell she's crying and trying to hide it. She's introverted and sports requires a lot of effort socially. She's doing it though. I smile and give her my phone so she can dive into tumblr and pinterest.


Then our new foster girl Andrea. Her pick up is at an after school program across town. My name is not on the list for approved picker upper people. They only have Mr. Hall's name. Mr. Hall is across town picking up Mac. It's 5.30 pm and there is no way to contact a social worker to address this. The after school teacher says she'll call the birth mom. I sit down with Andrea whose all smiles and happy. She's truly a beautiful girl. I'm humbled and happy. We color and wait. I've got 15 min to pick up River but I'm at peace. There is no rushing this.


Mom calls back and gives the O.K.


We pick up River who leaps into Pancakes arms. We all do a quick group hug. Pancake doesn't fight it, at least at first.


2 second family hugs are the best.

Fruit and other animals

This Easter weekend was divine. There were little animals made of fruit on the brunch tables.


I'm very blessed to have such a family.


The kids have struggled lately but my genius son is 75% better on all fronts. I left his conference skipping and singing. I have NEVER left a conference feeling happy before with that kid. It's a miracle. My daughter is showing signs of struggle but we are on it! I know some families that have no issues with their kids. All normal and chugging along. We are a different breed. And that is ok. We'll all work to get better together.


It's a funny thing, all these interventions for the kids. It's caused my husband and I to really take a look at ourselves. A lot of the smart, awkward, anxiety, social difficulties, defiant, working harder not smarter stuff comes from us. Only we barreled through it. It took years to get where we are, to blend in with normal. But, there is so much available to help the kids. We can lessen their struggle. It won't take years. We're healing now.


I can't say enough about kid counselors and teachers. They've helped us understand the complicated and super awesome kids we have. It's hard to say I don't know what's wrong or how to fix but something is not right. And if you say it in front of the right folks it gets better.


Parenting gifted kids is a whole different animal.  But the way I see it, it's all part of their gifts that will explode all over as they grow up. They will grow and accomplish things I can't even imagine right now.


Best Easter weekend ever.

We have a genius on our hands...it's my son, Mac

School Conferences....

These are times where you sit in front of the teacher and they have 15 min. to rattle off how your child is doing. It's not a conversation, it's a mini speech. I learned my oldest daughter, Pancake, now 12-- is being recommended for advanced math. As I looked over the 'AP' classes of algebra, trig, and calculus...I was flooded with wonderful memories. I loved math. I am a nerd and still am. MATH RULES!

I can't wait for my daughter to excell in everything she does. I can't wait to read over her math homework and wax nostalgic. My head will explode with rapturous joy when she starts reading Shakespeare!

My foster daughter is getting better with reading. And behaviors. Yay!

Then there is Mac, now age 8. I left his conference in tears. Not happy tears but sad ones. WHICH IS WHY I SHOULDN'T GO TO THESE THINGS.

Mac is smart. Like Mensa smart. I know, we've had him tested. We tested him because he struggles with behaviors. Sitting still, paying attention, keeping his emotions from flying all over the place...all of these things are not his strong suit. It was of no surprise he has attention deficit disorder. His mommy has it. His daddy has it too.

We knew he was smart, but genius level was a bit of a shock. It makes sense though. Yesterday, in the car, my eight year old was asking about cloned sheep. And radiation. And what ibuprofen means.

At the conference, his lovely blond teacher was telling me how Mac doesn't participate. He sits at his desk and reads. Reading at super high level, much higher than his peers. He doesn't want to sit on the carpet with the rest of the kids. "He wants to be alone", the teacher said. So, they let him read and do the 1/2 hour assignments in 2 min flat. They let him not participate because he's not disrupting the class.

That's an improvement. He used to be a huge disruption. Pounding, kicking, angry. Letters and calls from school. Now it seems instead of going outward, he's going inward. That's my trigger to start crying. I'm INWARD AND IT SUCKS. I'm an introvert who struggles with making small talk. Who struggles with fitting in, social gatherings and acting nonchalant. I'm 39 for land's sake. I've gotten very good at faking it but it's still a struggle. I want to tell Pancake and Mac to fight their inward leanings. You can be smart and outward.

Here's the thing, as the kids get older, the less they need to listen to me. Like Pancake. She's entering adolescence which is, by definition, the most awkward and struggle filled time of anyone's life. Meanwhile her life is unfolding before her. She needs to start figuring this out. It is up to her to pass the AP math classes. She'll figure it out if she wants to. I'll be there but I'm not going to hover or push.

Mac is eight. He's outgrowing time outs and becoming more scattered with things. Regulating his behavior is different. Less difficult and harder at the same time. He has long moments of emotional calm and his charming genius fills the room. I pray and imagine this will be him as he grows into a man.

The bright spot in all of this is that he's been recommended for a special school for gifted kids. It's a school where kids learn twice as fast and learn twice as much. They cater to the kind of learner Mac is. I hope upon hope this is where he'll flourish.

But, I always remember I was a genius who almost flunked out of high school. They didn't test me until 9th grade. And I have a master's degree.

It'll be ok.

I promise.

The Egg Story

Sometimes we like to tell our daughter a story called "The Egg Story". It's her birth story. Which was ten years ago. sniff sniff . . anyway, we let it unfold like this.

Daddy and I loved each other soooooOOOooOOOooo much we decided to have a baby. We went to amazon.com and ordered you. A few weeks later, a package arrived. We rushed home and found your box on the porch. I ran my fingers over the big, block letters that said, "BABY GIRL: FRAGILE".

We brought you inside, opened the box and found a big egg. It was the size of a watermelon. Daddy trimmed the box, laid a heating pad down and placed you back in. There you sat, on the couch, for a whole week. Sometimes I would hear a slight whimper or see a tiny wiggle. If you stirred, I'd cover your egg with a blanket and it settled you right down. You were a good egg, even then.

Each day, Daddy and I we would sit by your egg, making sure the temperature was just right. We’d wrap our arms around you, giving you a big Daddy Mommy hug. Then, we'd settle in real close and tell you how much we love you and how we couldn’t wait to meet you. Sometimes you’d jump when we talked. I think you loved us too!

Then came the day when you couldn't be comforted. Your whimpers grew loud and your egg wobbled to and fro. I tried to hold you but I couldn't get a grip. You were just too restless. We decided to let you do what you needed to do. Daddy and I made a bed for ourselves front of the couch and waited. You were ready to be born.

You worked so hard on being born. Your egg would bob all around, rolling back and forth. We followed you from room to room, making sure you didn't roll down the stairs. Sometimes you would take a rest and your egg would get very quiet. Then things got too quiet.

Mommy was really scared. So was Daddy.

We put our ears on your egg and didn't hear anything. We jiggled you a little and you didn't jiggle back. We put the heating blanket on medium, thinking you were too cold. We sang to you, we hugged you, but you weren't stirring.

Then Daddy went down stairs and got a small screwdriver. He gentle tapped on your shell, making little cracks so you could breathe. I peeked in and saw your little head. I saw your tiny hands and baby ears. You weren’t moving and Daddy kept chipping away. He peeled back part of the shell and we scooped you out. You were soggy, bluish and covered with crisco. You were very sleepy. We held you tight, rubbing your back to wake you up. I put my hand on your heart and felt it beat. I put my cheek near your nose and felt you breathe. You started to twitch. Then you opened your mouth super wide and started to howl.

Daddy and I cried while you turned blue to pink to ruby red! We were so happy!

Then we cut your cord, cleaned you up and wrapped you in a warm blanket.


And THAT, dear Piper, is how you were born!

Stripper birth mommy stories can WAIT!!

I can count about 4 times in my life where stress has overwhelmed me. Two of those times were school-- nurse and nurse practitioner school. It almost killed me. Both times.

Another time involved being a mom for the first time. I had NO IDEA how to handle that. My head was all explodey with feral fear for the first year.

The forth time is now. I have 5 kids. Each with their own set of needs.

Pancake, age 10, is becoming a tween and not dealing well. Life is full of challenges she doesn't know how to handle. She's growing up and growth can be very painful. Her girly huffy puffy tears--they do flow. I want to just yell at her and say, "YOU'RE SO BEAUTIFUL. JUST RELAX AND LET ALL THE AWESOME THAT GOD GAVE YOU BLOSSOM. IT'S GOING TO BE OK." Instead, I bring her to yoga, roller blade with her and make sure she has a door to lock in order to read excessively. This seems help reduce her tween meltdowns. Or space them out at least.

God help the sensitive teenage girls out there, especially my daughter.

Mac-N-Cheese is six years old, blonde and super charming. Asks really interesting questions. Hypersmart and sensitive. Still can't get the whole 'wiping his butt thing' conquered yet. Can't cross the street without his sister because he'll stop in the middle of the road to stare at a cool cloud. Has no idea where we're going half the time, but happy to be along for the ride. We're getting less notes from school about his behaviors. The male of the species is slow to develop temper control. Sometimes anyway.

God help the all boy boys out there, especially my son. God help his future wife develop patience and a light and loving heart, she's going to need it.

Sam is our part time foster kid, age 5. He's here on weekends. He's the least of our problems. We've got his behaviors pretty much under control now. Signficant reduction in palming items when we're out and about. For me, being with him is fun. Sad though. I'm not the mom he really wants. I hope his mom gets her act together. It'll take a miracle though.

God help all the boys with Moms that can't be Moms out there, especially Sam.

Tulip is our 4 year old foster daughter. We've made headway with her tantrum behavior. She is still very, very needy. I feel so guilty sometimes but sometimes I just need her off my lap. Sometimes I don't listen to her stories. Seriously, I'm worn out. The other night I told her to hush because I was watching TV and I JUST DIDN'T HAVE THE ENERGY TO HEAR ONE MORE STORY ABOUT HER MOM AND THE BELT SHE USES FOR SPANKINGS. Sometimes she uses these stories to get attention because telling me her mom 'dances upside down on a pole' is a way for a 4 year old to get attention. But, sometimes THIS MOMMY needs to watch dancing with the stars without kids on a lap because dancing with the stars is awesome! Stripper birth mommy stories can WAIT!!

God help all the little girls with mommies who don't take care of them. They won't make it far without you, especially Tulip.

AND THAT BRINGS US TO RIVER.

He's perfect so far. Seven months of chubby, baby love!!! I carry him everywhere even though he's so heavy my arm feels like it's GOING TO FALL OFF. He rarely is put down by anyone. All are agreed that is no good and much fussing occurs when it happens. This probably explains why he isn't sleeping through the night BUT OH WELL.

So this is the forth time where I've felt my wheels are spinning too fast. That life is going so fast it's getting away from me. I feel exhausted and weepy. The stress is too much. But, not matter how fast the wheels go, they don't stop. Life never stops. So, I'll wait. I know this feeling will pass. Then, I'll look back and laugh.

Each time this feeling comes around, it comes with growth in my heart. And growth makes me more capable of handing all sorts of things.

Which is kind of scary really. What more is coming down the pike?

EEEE!!!! God help Mrs. Hall!

The blog, she is neglected lately. I just don't have the inner tormoil I use to have. No inner conflict to write about. Plus, there is facebook. I document my life there so here is neglected.

BUT. I am still a busy bee. Being a wife, mom, nurse and now foster mom.

WIFE

I love being married. I love being Mrs. Hall. We've been married 12 years now and he still rings my bell. No better way to start my day then standing in the kitchen, holding hands with him and praying. Love it!

MOM

3 kids now

Pancake-age 10.

She is so smart and kind. Very much her own girl. Owns a cornsnake, likes bugs and dirt. READS CONSTANTLY. Goes to Zumba and yoga with me and we do inverted headstands together. Starting to show some tween tendencies of self consciousness and shyness. My plan is to use prayer and yoga to GET HER THROUGH THE TEEN YEARS. That and making sure she has plenty of time with her girlfriends so they can be silly and giggle and giggle and silly. She's such a jokster!

Mac-age 6.

Every morning we say 'MAC GET DRESSED!' and 'MAC, EAT YOUR OATMEAL.' Ten minutes later we'll find him sitting there, shirt on backwards, having taken two bites of oatmeal lost in his own little world. He'll smile and say, "If twins don't live in the same house, do they have the same birthdays?" or "How do arrows know how which way to point?" He's a thinker that one. A silly, jokster thinker who never sits still. Like if Plato was a hummingbird.

River-age 5 months

OH THIS BOY OF MINE. I am over the moon with him. So squiggly, so smiley, so baby chubby thighs and giggles. The photo says it all!

NURSE

Psychiatric Mental Health Nurse Practioner actually

I still have crazy patients and moral dilemas, but there are less so these days. I have found a groove and really enjoy my work. I get to guide people through their crisis and help them heal. It's humbling work. I am very blessed.

FOSTER MOM

The abstract idea of 'being a foster family' started as a whisper in my heart. I heard the whisper, talked it over with Mr. Hall and we prayed. We prayed to let God guide us, let him reveal the opportunity and we would answer his call.

I can't help but giggle about it all. I can't believe how God has changed me through this process. Being a foster mom comes with so many challenges. But challenge makes the heart grow. Our family system has changed too. The kids are use to the other kids that come into our life. They adjust and grow too. Sometimes it's not pretty but in the end, it's amazingly beautiful.

So far, one child has been with us for over a year (on weekends). Another came here a few weeks ago.

It's a task of loving without expectation. We never know when these kids might leave our life. So we love them now, while they're here. We don't know what will happend. So we give them hugs and prayer and warm meals. These kids are great and challenging. I hope OH I HOPE they benefit from seeing Mr. and Mrs. Hall loving each other and treating each other right. I hope they feel God's love.

And it's not just the kids. These kids have bio-moms and bio-grandmas. They are hurting too. Sometimes the bio family members call and it's totally awkward. We help the kids make art projects to bring on their family visits. We send photos and emails. We say, 'he had a great time at the zoo this weekend' or 'She really liked going to the library with us.' We keep things light and positive in one of darkest situations ever.

It's the ultimate task of not judging. Because God didn't call to us to judge, He called us to be shining examples of His light and love.

SO

that's my comings and goings. howzit with yous?

How our foster kids view us, his other family

L-R (M, Mac, River, Pancake) 

M's Sunday school teacher wrote us the following:

"We were talking about family and how we are all different but all
part of GOD's family. That with GOD we can always talk to him even if
we don't see him. It's not like you have use the telephone.

M went on to say my big family that's all together love me all the
time even when i'm not there. Pancake (my other sister reads to me)
Mac shares his toys, my other baby River smiles at me. My other dad
friend plays cars with me, gives me snacks, hugs me and tells me he
misses me. Pancake's mom let's me hug the baby and calls me honey. My
Pancake's daddy hugs me when I go to bed and never yells at me....he
hold's my hand too and not too hard. It was sweet to hear what the
kiddos version of love and family was."

SO THERE YA GO. A WHOLE LOTTA LOVE :)

Riddle me this

When ever someone refers to me as a 'working mom' I get a little miffed. I mean, sure, I do work but not that much. And certainly not that hard. I work 30-35 hours a week talking to people. It's mental health work, not heavy lifting. I want to make a bumper sticker that says, "every mom is a stay at home mom-we never really go anywhere!"

I get home at five pm every day, except every other Monday. Every other Monday, I have off of work! I don't work pms, nights or weekends. Or holidays. Or federal holidays. I am not bragging, just blessed beyond belief.

Mr. Hall works from home. Remotely logging into people's computers and fixing them. Migrating servers at times. This frees him up to drop off and fetch the kids. It's really wonderful this arrangement. Frees us up from daycare costs. Makes me feel happy inside.

So.

Sometimes, when I get home my daughter sort of has a meltdown about her day. She spills out the troubles, the crazies, the sads, the 'he took my pencil and called me stupid' stuff. She'll get red faced and heavy sobs. Which is typical for a nine year old girl. Girls are delicate and sensitive. So I hug her.

Having a big heart is tough. Caring deeply about stuff is tough. Especially when you don't have the best skills at regulating your emotions. Especially when you're nine. But, I have a big sensitive heart, it's how I make a living. So-she'll be ok :)

SO HERE'S MY QUESTION.

Why OH WHY WHY WHY does she wait to spill her guts till I GET HOME? She has a full hour and half with her Daddy before I come home. A Daddy who cares, loves and listens just as much as her Mommy! Why does she wait until I come home to spill?

I can say that I'm not that good of a problem solver either. Daddy takes her concerns, compiles them logically, puts them in context and solves things for her. I try this approach and she doesn't always respond. Then, I get a bit huffy and tell her to suck it up.

So why does she wait until I get home? I mean, I'll come home, she'll be totally rocking out with her legos or coloring and BAM! The water works start! I mean, I pay attention to her outside the tears. We do lots of stuff together and hang out a lot. It's not like she is lacking attention from her Momma. And I work, but not that much!

What you do think?

It's been too long

I've always wondered how blogs die. I mean, when I started this puppy, I would put out 1 or 2 posts A DAY. Long, chewy posts. Now it's been almost a month since my last post.

It's been too long!

But what can I say? I don't have any new news. Still working towards foster parenthood. Still working towards getting knocked up. Still enjoying my saucy life as a mom, wife and a nurse.

Been getting up at 4.45 am to work out with a friend. That is nice. I wouldn't go without her. Plus, she texts me with things like, "I'm on the toliet, see you in a few". And other such potty humor. She gets me.

Went to the fertility yoga class and with the Mommies that are on the NEED TO GET PREGNANT NOW-WHATEVER IT TAKES treadmill. Which I totally want to hug them about. I use to be on that treadmill and invited a bunch of yuck into my life as a result. I'm healed now, through the power of faith, and dangnammit, I want to hug the women in that class. I think my cheeriness falls on deaf ears. I'm at peace with all of this and their swirling crazily. Hugs to anyone that is trying to conceive (ttc) because God loves you and so do I.

Foster care is starting to scare the crap out of me. Not much more to say about that. I'll take it as it comes. Again, it's something I've given up to God. So, again, I feel peace.

So, I could go on and on about many things but there is nothing going on. I can say I get frustrated with the women folk in my life because FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY JUST SAY YES WHEN I INVITE YOU TO ZUMBA/DINNER/LUNCH/COFFEE/A WALK. Stop telling me you have to ask your husband if he'll watch the kids, stop telling me you're too busy because you can't say no to work/volunteer obligations cause that's your fault and just say yes to letting yourself grow outside your roles.

Sorry for the run on sentence.

But, it bugs me. I realize I have a golden husband that supports whatever I am and want to be. I realize I have boundaries with the obligations in my life and therefore have copious amount of awesome time. I realize I am unique in my fun loving side that can jump in and do pretty much everything and anything because I love adventure.

I realize I am unique in the respect.

Ok, 'nuff complaining.

I leave you with something my daughter said. She made a new friend and she's all excited. "I know she's going to be a good friend because she believes like me." And I said, "Believes what?"

"She believes that anything is possible, even that I can hold up a hotel with my pinky!"

(AWESOME!!)

Seven Days of Family Love, day two-ish

I've had an entire week, here at the House of Hall. Complete with my son, daughter and husband. We've kept our schedule light and breezy. Plenty of time for my kids to spend hours in their own little playworld. They create entire scenarios with their dragons, reptiles and assorted lego figurines. For hours and hours they'll play. Their dynamic works quite well, my daughter is a leader and my son follows. They love each other so much.

This summer they were in two weddings. Each time a flower girl and a ring bearer. It was awesome. Especially during the receptions. My son is a chick magnet and worked the room. Pulling reluctant party goers from their tables. Dancing up a storm with lots of middle aged ladies. When the song was over he'd tell them, "I'll call you!" (No really, he did. Daddy told him to say that! :)

My daughter danced too. Swaying in her pretty dress, all silly with family love. I held her and we swayed together. My kids danced together too. It was wonderful, each of those weddings.

Given that, imagine my surprise to hear them playing a game called 'divorce' during one of their marathon playing sessions. In their pretend world, two of their plushy dragons had had a fight. My son was beside himself about it all. He didn't like that game one bit!

I went upstairs to check on things. See if I could help the dragons get back together. However, by the time I got up there, the dragons had reconciled. "They're back together Mommy," my daughter explained, "The fight is over." My son was much relieved by this. He wiped his tears and hugged his sister.

"I don't wanna be divorced.", he said. "I always wanna be married to Pancake!"

Which means during those weddings, he thought he was getting married too. :)

When I turned off the car, Pancake was crying

We've been going to our current church for about a year. Most every Sunday. Pancake has her own special kid service. The kidz crew puts on a skit and song. Lessons are learned, songs are sung and fun is had.

But make no mistake. Pancake is effected by all of this. She doesn't talk much about it. Which frustrates me. I want to be there for her, listening to her questions, letting her know it's all right. But she's just quiet about it.

So. I do what I can to coach her through this. I play the Christian station and sing along. Letting her know what I'm feeling. We look through the Bible and talk about the stories. I tell her when I'm scared I pray. Then I show her how.

Such was the case last night. We were listening to the Christian station and wowsers there was some whoopers. I got all weepy and stirred up. Which happens in church too. Sometimes I feel the spirit well up in me and I can't sing for the tears flooding my eyes.

Then I turn off the car. And I hear her crying too.

I say, "Pancake, are you ok?" And she says, "Yes Momma, that's just a really powerful song." Then I gathered her out of back seat and showed her I was just as moved. Then we hugged for a while.

****************************************

Last year, she saw me baptized. She had no idea what was going on. So in the next few nights, I think I'll have her watch this movie.

Then I'll tell her what it felt like.

:)

Mommy wasn't careful

Early morning photo of me and Mac

Was feeling faboosh yesterday morning. Complete absence of morning sickness and exhuastion. I also had a hankering for french toast. OoooOOooo french toast with it's bread dipped in eggy goodness, tossed on the griddle and browned just right. Then the butters and the syrups! And powdered sugars!! OOo la la! Oui! Oui!

I even had real coffee! It was awesome. I've been living on Gatorade, peppermints and pretzels for the last week. The french toast tasted so divine. OOo la la! Oui! Oui!

I felt so good in fact that I took us all for a walk in the woods. The trees, the sunshine, ooh! It was all such fun! We even saw a beaver. LA BEAVER LOVE! OOo la la! Oui! Oui!

Then. As we trekked back the nature center it started again. I felt the nausea creeping back into my joints and belly. My eyes became hooded and I left to lay down in the car. Which really, it's my fault. Mommy wasn't careful.

I've been praying for God to help with my worries and fears about this pregnancy. Not so long after, my entire body was commandeered by the sicky and tireds. Which is kind of awesome when you think about it. I mean, my entire body is being overtaken by something the size of a kidney bean. I am just a vessel at this point.

Which is kind of a metaphor for motherhood. These babies just march right in and take over the place. First your body, then your life.

Cheeky little monkeys!

Needless to say, I didn't hold onto the french toast for long. ( I would like to apologize to the bushes outside the nature center. Really, sorry guys). Then Mr. Hall drove us home and offered to take the kids adventuring (a.k.a picking up yard sticks) so I could recover and moan in peace. I love that man of mine.

Later in the afternoon, Pancake crawled into bed with me. She's been noticing I've been sick these last few days. She is starting to worry. So I tell her. "Mommy's pregnant." Which really, it's my fault. Mommy wasn't careful. (HEE HEE)

And her eyes got wide and she is careful absorbing that news. I tell her we are praying and hoping and placing all of this in God's hands because the baby has a long way to grow. Then we hug.

Then I tell her it's ok that I'm sick because I was very sick when I was pregnant with her. Then I give her a wee spank. Because man o man, it was exactly like this with Pancake's pregnancy. Not so much with Mac though.

Then she says, "Well, it must be a girl!"

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY EVERYONE!!

Non-violent solutions for the everyday parent

Bear with me here, this is a tough post to write.

My husband and I believe that meals times should be calm, loving and food should be enjoyed. And no, the kids don't get a choice for dinner. Well, actually they get two choices: take it or leave it.

On Sunday I made fruit filled pancakes. It's simple to make. Just add frozen fruit to the pancake batter. Frozen fruit can be found in the freezer section of your local grocery store.

Then my daughter, the wee eight year old Pancake, says, "Can you make my pancakes without fruit in it?"

We discuss this. No I say, I don't make separate orders. She fusses and whines. Now, this irritates me. I expect a lot from my kids and manners. They are not allowed to pick through their food. They are not allowed to insult any cook by saying something stinks or it tastes nasty. I have taught them phrases like, "It's a bit strong for me, but thank you anyway."

Manners are important.

So is trying different type of foods. The world is a big wonderful place, so many tastes and textures to explore. This is what I am instilling here, in my kid's. I want them to be cultured and knowledgeable with foods. I want them to taste the wonder of it all.

Ok ok, jeez, yes, yes- I realize they are only 8 and 4, I can realize I can calm down a bit. I know that! I'm working on it!!

So, back to the fruit filled pancakes and the stinkeye my daughter was giving me about them.

Then I said, "I don't think you realize what you have here. You have me, making you pancakes." I then wave my arms open, calling her attention to our house. "We have everything we need here, we have a house, warm heat and now these pancakes. You woke up in a warm bed today. Some people wake up in homeless shelters, some wake up in a parks. There are a lot of people out there who don't have this."

She is looking at me at this point, mouth all small, close circle. I have her attention. Then I say this.

"I have a patient who goes to dunkin donuts every day at 12.30. Do you know why they do this?"

She doesn't.

"At 12.30, the morning donuts are thrown away in the Dumpster behind the building. My patient waits by the dumpster to scoop them out of the trash. They do this because they don't have food to eat. I also have a patient who brings empty milk jugs to the park every morning. Do you know why they do this?"

She doesn't.

"Because they can't pay their water bill. They fill the jugs with water to bring home, so they can have something to drink."

At this point she is dead silent. Her eyes are welling up. I realize that I am affecting her. I am not entirely comfortable with this. Yet there it is.

"So, when you whine about fruit in your pancakes, you need to think a little bit about all that we have here. And then, that fruit won't be such a big deal."

Then we all sit down for breakfast. It's calm. She doesn't pick the fruit out, she doesn't whine, she doesn't really eat though. And she doesn't say anything. After a while she asks to be excused and toddles off.

Then, we go to the park, she plays all happy. Around lunch time she says she's hungry again. And we eat. And love each other because we are family.

my daughter volunteered me

First things first: LOOK at THE WEE MRS. HALL!! SO CUTE!! SO KINDERGARTEN!! SO FIVE YEARS OLD!!

There's gonna be a partee with coworkers tonight. My coworkers are a rowdy, saucy bunch. I booked the babysitter a month ago. I lined up a babysitter so Mr. Hall could be my designated driver and I could get all tipsy on cosmos. Maybe they'll hit a strip club. I was all prepped for the adventure.

then.

THEN.

Last Sunday, at church, the word went out about a kid's gathering. It's called "Kid's Night". There will be tons of grade school munchins and popcorn and movies. Pancake is all a twitter!!

then.

THEN.

After the service last Sunday, my daughter took my hand and led me to Pastor Pete. He's the kids' pastor. Pete puts on skits for the kids and organizes games each Sunday for the kid's service. All the kids love Pastor Pete.

So Pancake takes my hand and leads me to him. And she says, "My Mom wants to hang up streamers and help with the refreshment stand for Kid's Night".

which was news to me.


!!!!!!!!


Guess where I'm gonna be tonight?

;)




I LOVE YOU PANCAKE!!!

Messing with my kid's head (is good times)

So, Pancake and I were doing crafts on the couch this Sunday. She has a kid's knitting tool, I have my counted cross stitch. Everyone was settling down for a nap. Mr. Hall put the wee Mac down, despite his howling protests. I nestled on the couch. It was a good two hours before I surfaced. I can't tell you people how much I luuurrrvvvess the naps.

I gain 10 IQ points per half hour of nap. And my mood-OH MY GAWD! I'm all happy and talking in my faux french accent again.

Anywhoodle. When I woke up, I woke up Pancake and said, "Let's go shopping before the others wake up." Two seconds later she's by the door, shoes on and everything. Faster than a speeding bullet I tells ya.

Then we're driving along. I'm chewing on a chocolate granola bar and drinking Diet Coke. Now, I have problem with DC. I will drink up to 10 cans a day if left to my own devices. I realize I have a problem. That's why I stopped drinking the stuff. Except this day, I needed the burn and jolt that only comes from the sweet, sweet DC. Oh MANNA FROM HEAVEN!!

Then, I began passing the DC and granola bar to Pancake. She sipped quietly and chewed thoughtfully. She looked at me with wide eyes. Then, with a small voice she said, "Momma? Why do I get to have soda and the bar today?"

I could tell the wheels had been turning in her head. She never gets soda and those bars are my bars. Even Daddy can't have any. So, as you might guess, this was huge for her. I think I scared her a little.

"Oh," I said, "You've been such a good girl today, and I could tell you had so much fun at church and Mommy is so proud of you."

She didn't respond to that. She just kept staring at me, then the soda and then the chocolate granola bar. She was all tight lipped, silent and amazed. I bet she was thinking, "Best to just let it happen and say nothing."

tee hee hee.

It's important to mess with your kid's head once in a while

Why can't people act more Asian in Asian restaurants?

David Sedaris wrote a book called, "When you are engulfed in flames." It's hilarious, and really, anything Sedaris is a win. The last few bits of the book are about his stay in Japan. In Japan, when they talk on their cellphones, they cup their hands over the mouth piece, move to the side and speak quietly. "What's the big secret?", Sedaris mused.

Yesterday, I took the wee Pancake to a Thai resturant. A Mommy and me adventure. It was quiet and hushed. This was special for us on so many levels. Normally we dine with her little brother who cannot sit still and has little or no volume control. Which is expected, since he's three and all. We go to restaurants that match him.

We sat all lady like, enjoying the red leather chairs. I quietly pointed out the wood carvings on the wall, the linen napkins, the way the waitress bowed after taking our order. It was all sorts of neat for her. A big girl lunch. She was tickled by the chopsticks and slurped off the big soup spoons.



Now, this restaurant is by a liberal college. A small, expensive, private liberal arts college. Needless to say, the patronage of the restaurant falls along those demographic lines. Lots of brainy, skinny ectomorphs. Except for the chubby, balding guy in his mid thirties seated at the next table. He was sitting with a younger, plump woman who smiled easily. Guy was very smart. He was telling the hayseed blond all about this fact. He was expounding on his political and philosophical ideals. He was also poo-poohing her ideas with his smartness. I wanted to go over to the table and yell this:

RUN GIRLFRIEND RUN!!!!

Because he was dominating their conversation with his useless double speak. And the girl was entranced by his twist of tongue. Hypnotized by his break neck verbiage. She didn't see he was being selfish. It's just no good, when your date doesn't give and take during conversation. I bet he claims he's a feminist. Again:

RUN GIRLFRIEND RUN!!!

And I looked at my daughter, with all her wide eyed interest in the place. She was starting to get all silly with rice and sweet and sour sauce. And I want to tell her all of this- about the people next to us. But she's seven. That is far beyond her at this point.

She I ask her about Cooper, a boy that follows her around at school. They like to hunt frogs together at summer camp. "He wants to be my boyfriend.", she says. I don't think she understands what that means but when you are seven, your job is to imitate adult language and roles. Practicing and learning. So I ask, "How do you know if he's quality, if he'll be a good boyfriend?"

She thinks about it. Then she says,

"He opens my ketchup packets at lunch and returns my tray when we're done."



THAT'S MY GIRL!!!!!!

Toughening up the girl

Here's the thing.

Pancake is the our first born and likes to be bossy. Plus, she has the emotional control of a seven year old, because that's how old she is. This comes flaming out while bike riding with the rest her tribe, The Tribe Called Hall. We ride to Gramma's and back. Four miles each way, on a paved bike trail, next to a busy country road. It's awesome, this ride.

So there we are, riding in a conga line of me, her Daddy and her baby brother Mac. He sits atop the pull behind bike. This is a line she likes to lead. She has a wee two-wheeler, it has one speed. With her streamers a flying, she muscles to be in front.

She gets obsessed with being in front. We use this obsession.

We gently follow her, and then push a bit, like we are trying to pass her. She pedals harder and yelps. It's a game she enjoys, she laughs and digs in, being stubborn. We often yelp along, accusing one and other of farting or being a butthead. Good times, good times.

Sometimes, she takes things too seriously, like when we try to climb a hill. If we try to pass her on a hill, she starts freaking out, then the yelping turns to howling. She starts to sob and snot bubble. Then she starts to hold her stomach, complaining that she's hungry. Maybe she'll hold her leg, saying it hurts. I don't give in. I ignore this. Whining will not get her out of hard work.

But.

Each ride she gets a bit tougher. Less whining, less yelping, less howling. And last night, there was no stopping her. Even on the big hills. That was huge. Because when we climbed the biggest hill, the hill she always stops on, she didn't. We got to the top I pulled up next to her, she was huffing and puffing, all silent and smirky. Then I said, "Pancake, sooo PROUD OF YOU!! You did it!!"

Then she shot me a look and dug in, peddling faster and faster to get in front again.

I am so unbelievably proud of her. I was just bursting!!

Oh sweetcheeks, Mommy loves you so much, you're the best little girl in the whole wide world. :)

Pontypool movie review, now with more Zombie love

In the words of the great Final Girl, whose site I adore like so many Zombies,

"BEWARE YON SPOILERS!"

Zombie movies often traffic in reliable elements. For instance, there will always be nonsensical, dirty hordes of Zombie people. They will gather and move en masse. They go around moaning, walking crooked and eating brains. They bite non-Zombies thus infecting them with Zombie germs, which perpetuates the species.

Then, there is a group of non-zombies. These people make up the heroes of the story. The heroes are often slow in realizing there are hordes of Zombies outside their very doors. Also, they are slow in figuring out what made it all happen. But, eventually the heroes get their act together and fight a righteous fight. All good fun.

With that being said, is it possible to create mind bending originality with a Zombie film? Is it possible to scare the viewer, this viewer, even if she knows all of the above? Even if she has average to above average writing skills and can thus predict a lot of dialogue and plot devices?

HUH??!!

In the case of Monty Pool, you bet yer sweet bippy!!

The heroes of this story are a radio disk jockey and his producer. The radio station is set in Canada. Snowy, cold Canada. The disk jockey is a bit of a crank ass and wears a black cowboy hat. He also hates his job. He wants to be big and famous. Yet there he is, stuck in small town Canada. Announcing school closings. Again, he's a bit of a crank ass.

The producer calms and cajoles a decent morning program from yon cranky DJ.

Now, let's take a moment to get some visuals. Because 95% percent of this film takes place in a basement with our two heroes. In a radio studio.

This is Mazzie. The aforementioned DJ.

Here is the producer, being patient and cajoling.



Now, about 15 minutes into the morning program, reports start trickling in about a group of protesters. A horde of chanting people, because yes o yes! The Zombie invasion HAS BEGUN!

But wait. There's less.

Not more.

What got me clutching Mr. Hall, what made me literally say to myself, over and over again, "This is just a movie!", what scared the crap out of me, was the sheer spookiness of the unseen. The verbiage! The actual Zombies don't show up until well past the half way mark. Yet there I was, freaking out because of the Zombies.

This is a testament to the actors. Because really, it's all them. The DJ goes on describing reports of protesters. Protesters who are busting into buildings and killing people. Making these musical chanting noises. It's all his words describing the action.

Words people, WORDS!

And here I am, the viewer, knowing it's just words and facial expression. Knowing it's just a movie. Yet there it is, scaring the crap out of Mrs. Hall. And you think it wouldn't work, but goddamn! It did!

After there is confirmed wonkiness of Zombie action going on, the task of the heroes is to figure out what to do.

First, they must freak out. I'm freaking out too!

Then the heroes must figure out how this is happening. What is causing the protesters to gather, to kill and then eat the innards? What is the cause of all this? How is it spreading??!!!

THIS IS WHERE THE FILM GETS BRILLIANT!

It isn't Zombie bites. Or a virus or nuclear radiation. No!! It's sound. Words are the carrier of the Zombie illness. Which makes the setting of a radio station all the more brilliant of a setting, no? Because a radio station transmits words and sounds. And the Zombies being to hone in on the radio station. After all, that's where the words are coming from!

Thus the Zombies bust into the radio station. Breaking glass all that.

But here's the thing, the DJ and the producer are in sound proof booth. They are making the sounds but cannot be heard directly. So the Zombies gather around the glass. Bashing into it. This is the first glimpse of the Zombies. Making a mess of the glass. It's gross.

The first Zombie appears.



Then lots of Zombies.



Bumping up against the soundproof both, over and over, trying to get at the sound. It's really gross.



But, eventually they realize they get can't get at the sound by bumping against the glass. They wander off toward the speaker. But again, they leave quite the mess.



So, at this point in the film the heroes have figured out sounds and words are infecting people. Making them very ill indeed. But which words? And what is the cure?

I'm not going to tell you!

MWHAHAA HAA!!!

But, I'll give you a hint. A riddle really. When does a word lose it's meaning?

When does a word lose it's meaning?

Well, you'll just have to watch the film. Which was a phenomenally freaky ride. It's heartwarming actually. Raised my spirits beyond belief. Because I now know there are a whole host of films out there, all having what I like the best.

Which is originality. And writing that drives both crazy character development and the movie itself. Without getting all Jane Austen or Precious! Movies that are smart and freaky! And let we forget, I LOVE ME SOME ZOMBIES!!

It's a love I'm passing down to my kids. See, look at yon youngin' Halls. She how they do the Zombie!





Ok good, now go! Find the movie and watch it! CATCH THE ZOMBIE FEVAH!!!