I can't believe I am writing about ice cream

It started innocently enough. I went shopping today attempting to
find some food that my boys could eat. In case I haven't mentioned it my boys are allergic to just about everything. I kid you not. You won't find peanut butter in this house. Nor will you find any corn or corn products (corn syrup or cornstarch which 99% of foods contain) You won't find wheat, soy, rye, barley, oats, or buckwheat. You won't find cashews, pine nuts, hazelnuts, walnuts, pecans or sunflower seeds. The only nuts you will find is us!!!
You also won't find bananas, strawberries, peas, green beans, carrots, shrimp, coconut and many other assorted foods. Needless to say shopping in a typical food store is fairly inexpensive because THERE IS NOTHING TO BUY!

Luckily for me, but not for my waistline the boys can have dairy. Well, today I went over to the ice cream section and in that section there is Breyers Natural Ice Cream. Breyers makes a couple of flavors my boys can eat that don't contain soy
or corn syrup. Peach is one, chocolate is another. Vanilla is out as Karson is allergic to vanilla...how can you be allergic to vanilla???? Well today they had chocolate but now I am in a big quandry because they are having an irresistable sale...it's the old BUY ONE GET ONE FREE gimmick that was designed just for shmucks like me. Needless to say, I can't just get one when they are $5.99 for
one and $5.99 for two...can I? I mean who in their right mind would. (I knew you would support me on this one!)

So what do I pick out...a new flavor for Dave and Kylee...Fried Ice
Cream. I am NOT going to eat any until Dave says, "Just take one bite you
will love this stuff." That should have stopped me right there!!! I mean who can take just one bite of ice cream especially when someone is touting its virtues? Not me...I have NO willpower. I know it is suppose to be located on Chromosome 19 but I swear I am lacking that gene. Someday when genetic studies are cheap and common place I will finally have the proof I need.

Anyway, I swear this is the best ice cream flavor on the face of the earth. Oh
my goodness, I want to attack anyone who goes near it so here I sit
at 11:46 p.m. sneaking a small 1/2 scoop and I really want to down
the whole container. Don't go near this stuff...It is way too good.

Jumping Inside My Head

There are times that I wonder what it would be like to jump into my boys heads. I mean both have autism and I wonder...do they think like me? If not, what thoughts are running through their brains that are not running through mine? Do they look at me and wonder these things too?

You know, lately I have been following the story of Baby James. A 1.5 year old who was adopted from Korea and within 5 weeks of being home his parents found out he had cancer. A particular form that is very aggressive. And I think, I don't know how they do it. And I wonder if I would have the courage that it takes to do it day in and day out when the news is never very positive. I wonder if I would just give up and let someone else take on the day. And then it strikes me that I wonder how many people feel that way about my life? The one I am happy with. The one that is chaotic and stressful and the one in which the outcome of all this mothering remains hazy. And it dawns on me that many people would say they couldn't do it. And the truth of the matter is that most of us can live our own lives because they are what we are used to but cringe at the thought of living another. Because there is comfort in the familiar and satisfaction in the knowledge that what we have created somehow fits us in ways that we might have been unprepared for but in fact is what we need. And so when I wonder if I could do it I try to remember that I already am for someone else could not fill my shoes in the perfect way my own feet do.

Returning

Ever since we returned from Belize I have been unable to get back to blogging. Seems that once I lose my way I have a hard time finding the path again. So I will just write a Kullenism as said by 5 yo Kullen.

Kullen:I am scaring myself today
Me: Why are you afraid?
Kullen: I'm becoming a teenager again!

Yep bud that is enough to scare anyone isn't it!

What Does God Know?

Over on one of the adoption BB the subject of G*D came up again. Specifically, how G*D gives us the children we were meant to have, how we were paired with our children through G*D's will and his perfect timing. How G*D planned that our children should end up in our specific family. And this type of talk always confuses me. Because it gives credit to G*D for all the good that comes into our lives due to the adoption of our children yet does not place the "blame" at G*D's feet for our children's first families imploding in on themselves.

Oh I know that people say that it all comes down to free will. That people makes mistakes and that G*D makes sure that beauty comes out of painful situations. But I ask myself if this is indeed true why didn't G*D do a better job of choosing a parent for my boys. I mean afterall, I am not the most patient person. Why didn't God choose a mother for these boys who had the patience of a saint? Or why didn't G*D pick a family that had unlimited financial resources so that my boys could have a special OT gym in their basement. I mean, geex, I don't even have a basement!!! Or why is it that G*D chose a family for them that met the eligible income requirement for international adoption? Why not a wonderful two parent family who both work at
7-11 but would read 10 books a day to their kids, and help them build birdhouses every week. Why wouldn't he give people who are less financially sound the same opportunity to experience the joy of raising a child as I have been given? For if the truth be told my kids will be lucky to do three arts and crafts projects during their life time with me as their mother. And if it is true that we all have lessons to learn and that is why we are chosen why is it my kids responsibility to suffer their fool of a mother? Why should they be the guinea pigs for me to practice improving myself upon? I struggle with the fact that some adoptive parents are of the opinion that they were more "right/qualified/entitled" to parent their mutual child than was his first mother.Why? Why would G*D allow hurt and hardship to enter my son's birthmothers life in order that I get my desires satisfied while her desires are pushed aside.

Or another question. Why me, a quasi believer as opposed to a strong conservative Christian or Jewish family? I mean if G*D is wanting people to enter into the kingdom of heaven with him and knowing how my kids lives have already endured such loss; then why wouldn't he put them with a family that will provide all the underpinnings to ensure that their child gets to sit at the right hand of G*D? A family who prays together everyday, worships G*D and doesn't say his name in vain.

Or is it not like this at all. Does G*D really have no say so. The pile on the SW's desk is just a pile. But that G*D believes that when he gives us the gift of a child that it doesn't matter if that child is in the middle of the pile or the bottom. It doesn't matter how our children come to us just that we do they best job we know how when we get them. That we are there for them...that HE is there for them...and that is all that really matters anyway.

Sets

The other day I was in a store when I came across the "old" metal type of lunch box like I used to take to school. Only this one was new and it had no thermos. I'm sorry but that is sacred...lunch boxes and a new thermos are suppose to go together.They are a pair and they belong together. Some things are like that...they are just meant to be a set.

Sometimes I look at my son and wonder how he will feel about his adoption as he ages because we don't look like a matching set. I'm like the Barbie Lunch Box. My strength keeps him protected and safe from falls. I act as his cocoon by holding him and carrying him. And the fact that we are not a matching set never seems to bother him until that day someone in school points out that I am a Barbie Lunch Box and he is a Superman Thermos. And in that second it may occur to him that many people think that Barbie and Superman don't go together. That they were never meant to be. And that, in fact, he belongs in the Superman Lunch Box because they look the same and therefore they should be together based on their shared attributes. And I hope when the time comes I remember to tell him that matching sets are not always what is important. That sometimes what really matters is the fact that they needed to be together whether they look the same or not. The lunch box needs the thermos so that a thirst is quenched while the thermos needs the lunch box to help feed a soul. That together they work as a team. That they are a set and while they may not match they still are able to get the job done...together...matching or not.

And this is why you don't write when you have had no sleep!!!!

There Are Some Days And Then There Are SOME Days

One day this week I decided to make my husband happy and take my van through the car wash. Let me explain that my husband always has an impecable car whereas mine, well lets just say I consider cleaning my car when and only when the kids can write their names in the dust on the INSIDE of the car.

So just as the water starts I realize that the sunroof is a little bit open. So I push the button to close it and I end up pushing it the wrong way so that the sunroof opens all the say and I cannot shut it. Chemical cleaners start spraying throughout the car and all over me and the kids. Finally I get the sun roof shut and as I look at my seat I see that the cleaner has left spots all over it. Now I don't know if it is because of what was in the cleaner or the fact that my interior was so dirty that ANYTHING would have cleaned it.

Later in the day, Karson using his usual forrest of toilet paper plugs up the toilet and water is going everywhere and then Kullen comes up and pinches me on the butt as I am using the mixer and chocolate cake batter goes flying throughout the kitchen. But seriously that is nothing in the scheme of bad days. Here is the worst I can remember.

One morning I wake up to find raw sewage coming up the bathtub. Lovely. I call the plumber who cannot make it out until the afternoon. So at this point I decide that a walk on the beach is in order. So I load the dog into the car and off we go. We get to the beach, I get the dog out, and slam the door thereby locking my keys in the car. Finally after 1/2 hour on this deserted beach a man comes driving up in his little two seater convertible and I convince him to give me a ride home...with the 90 pound dog sitting on my lap the entire way home. When I get home I remember that Dave asked me to take a very important letter to the post office and it has to go out TODAY. Since the mail is taken at noon I decide I better get down their quick. After a 2 mile walk in the broiling sun I arrive at the post office (which by the way is one of three public buildings in town) and realize that I left the letter at home. So I run home, literally, almost dying in the process and then go back to the post office only to see the truck leaving as I round the bend. At that point I head home, YET AGAIN, and find the plumber driving up the road I reach my driveway. Yep that is me always a day late and a dollar short. Unfortunatly it didn't just cost a dollar to fix the problem. In fact the plumber is down in the basement/laundry room. He says that "everything is fine" and he will be back in a moment.So I decide to flush the toilet that is filled with the raw sewage. About ten minutes later I decide I cannot postpone the inevitable because I have to go to the bathroom in the worst way. And it isn't pee. So I go and flush the toilet only to have the plumber scream. Seems he came back unbeknownst to me and had a piece of pipe off above the toilet and was looking up when my "little gift" came down the pipe line. I can honestly say it was one of the most embarrasing moments of my life.And not only that when I flushed the first time all the raw sewage flooded the basement. Lovely. I got to clean that up too. Then when my husband came home we want out to the beach to get my car and one the way out his car has a flat tire. The jack is...in my car because I neglected to put it back. So we hike down to my car where we realize that I thought he had brought the keys and he thought I had. After another 20 mintues waiting for a rescue the SAME guy in the little red sports car shows up and we get driven home...except this time it is my on Dave's lap. We get the key and have a neighbor drive us back where this time everything works out the way you think it should. That would have been the end of this story if I hadn't told Dave that I was going to run out to the pizza shop and bring one home because I was just too tired to deal with dinner. And as I back down the driveway I run into his car which then rolls down the driveway. Some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed.

Oh and then there is my cousin Kathy. A professional moving company was moving their belongings into their new house on top of a hill when all of a suddent the moving van starts rolling down hill and crashes into a neighbors house. Literally the van crashes INTO the house. So now all of a Kathy's worldly goods are sitting in a strangers house where they must remain for several days until the insurance adjustors can sort everything out.

So when you think you have had a bad day...think again.

Beginnings and Ends

Today I took down the crib. It's a done deal. No more kids for it to hold. No more kids for it to protect. It all seems to final...like a story coming to the end.
We put that crib up the first time over 16 years ago. It served four of our five children well. It is a light wood one with 14 slats on the sides, a stain of spit up in the left hand corner and on the end a dab of pale yellow paint that ended up there while I was painting Kellis' room. It's a crib that has been used as a trampoline as the kids got older and occasionally a "time out" space when someone needed to get their act together. More often than not it was me who needed it but I knew I would never fit.
Kylee was the first to use the crib but more often than not she ended up sleeping with us and after she was put on the apnea monitor the crib rarely saw any action.
Karson was the next one to use it and we were determined he would. Everyone chided us "you aren't going to do THAT again, are you? I mean sleeping with your child well it just isn't healthy." Of course, we never understood that an internationally adopted child who comes to you at over 6 months of age might just need to be with you even in sleep. So we put him in that crib every evening even though he woke up 5-7 times during the night in an attempt to reassure himself that we would still be there for him. Eventually, exhaustion set in and he ended up in our room.
Kullen was the third child to use the crib. He came home from Korea at 10.5 months and by the time he was 12 months old he was using it to practice vaulting and high jumping. Because our fear of a life threatening injury was so great he ended up in our room too.
Kellis is the last to use the crib. She was also the first to actually use it until at 2 years old she realized all the other kids were sleeping in beds and she wanted one. I have kept the crib up for the past 6 months even though she has not used it. There was just a part of me that didn't want to admit that we are done. Our family is complete and we are getting old.It is hard sometimes to acknowledge that "this is it" even though we know it is. Because it means the end of the known. The end of what feels comfortable. The end of something new entering your life. Endings are just that...the end. Its like closing the covers of a book when you have reached the last page. But like a good book the crib's story stays with yus, gives us things to ponder and some good passages to look back upon. And like a good book there is often a sequel which in this case is our grandchild who is due in September. A maybe...just maybe...that crib will be used once more. Because when you think about it-beginnings and ends-they really are the same thing aren't they.

Nineteen Years...Can It Be?

Monday and Tuesday was our 19th anniversary. Two days you ask? Well, we were married in Germany where we had a civil ceremony on the 25th and a religious ceremony in an old castle on the 26th. At the time we were living in Las Vegas and traveled Germany with our friends Dana and Piet who were living in the Netherlands. They witnessed both weddings and Piet who is fluent in 5 languages translated for us. Unfortunately, the minister used that nasty 4 letter word, OBEY, during the ceremony and I absentmindedly agreed. Dave loves to bring that up upon occasion.

Anyway, the night we were married in the castle we were eating a memorable dinner when a young woman walked over to our table and introduced herself as the Baron's daughter.
"You came all the way here to get married," she asked in disbelief.
"Yes, we really wanted our love to last as long as the castle," we replied.
"That's funny. We went to Las Vegas," she said.
Oh the irony of it all.

Everyday I count my blessings that I am married to this wonderful man. Sometimes when I think about how fortunate I am I remember that song from the Sound of Music that goes "But somewhere in my youthful childhood, I must have done something good." Well, that is how I feel about having Dave in my life. Sometime, somewhere I must have done something good.

I wrote this about 5 years ago. I still feel the same.

DAVE


I can write about just about anything but Dave because no words I
might use to describe him and what he means to me would ever do him
justice. It's like trying to describe a shining diamond. While one
can attempt to describe it's brilliance as it sparkles in the light
you would still miss some aspects of its perfection just by not being
in its presence. You would miss the subtle flickers of color cast
around the room; the blues,pinks and yellows. You would be unable to
count the thousand little points of light that dance around the room.
It's just one of those things that you have to be around to fully
appreciate it's incredible beauty. That is how I feel about Dave.

Dave is my inspiration. He is whom I strive to emulate. He is kind,
considerate, compassionate, joyful and he has a soul that is at peace
with itself. He pushes me to try to be the best I can be and he
teaches our children not through mere words but from example. Dave is
also dedicated to our family, to making the world a better place and
to living his life in a manner that is ethical and sincere. He is a
wonderful father to our children and is always helping them find
their way to themselves.

For years I struggled in a job that gave me little in the way of
satisfaction, creativity and fullfilment. It was Dave who gave me the
encouragement to try writing for a living and in doing so allowed my
life to return to me in unexpected ways. His support (both financial
and emotional) has allowed me to learn about myself, warts and all.
Thanks to him I have been able to follow my own twisted path to
enlightenment and happiness. If I died tomorrow, I would die happy
because I am one of the fortunate ones to have experienced true love
from a man that has often put my selfish wants and needs above his
own. A man who heart knows no bounds and for whom love is endless and
complete. Dave is my diamond.

Sorry. To busy to write something original tonight so I went with something I wrote in 2000. I read this on Iowa National Public Radio and it also appeared in Heartwarmers.


I wrote this two years ago when Dave's Grandma was 94. Like many people her age she was finding it difiicult to take that path leading towards her "twlight years." These days Grandma is living in a retirement home, yet, she refuses to give into the idea that she will never drive again. I hope that when I am her age I will be as determined as she is ... it will make life much more interesting. In writing this story, I have taken certain liberties with the spoken word but the content remains true to Grandma's life.



SHIFTING INTO IDLE

By Cheryl L. Dieter copyright 2000


Everyone knew it was time for Grandma to stop driving. Everyone, that is, but Grandma. At 93 her health was deteriorating and she was beginning to forget things but these "insignificant" matters were not going to stop this Iowa "silver fox" from getting behind the wheel. If you think taking car keys away from a teenager is difficult you haven’t seen anything until you’ve tried getting them away from the over 90 crowd. Since sending Grandma to her room or withholding her allowance was not an option, we didn’t have much bargaining power. Not that we didn’t try. We cajoled and we nagged. Various family members even took her car keys but mysteriously another set would appear out of thin air. And amazingly Grandma could always find this new set even though she couldn’t remember which key actually started the car.

When the doctor ordered her to stop driving Grandma took matters into her own hands. "They didn’t require licenses when I started driving so I really don’t need one now." became her new motto and "If I can’t drive I might as well die," became, yet, another battlecry.

As determined as we were to get Grandma to stop driving, she was even more determined to keep her license. When it came time to renew her license, instead of asking a family member to take her to the Department of Motor Vehicles, she asked a neighbor; conveniently circumventing those of us who would have told the inspector not to renew it. In short, we soon realized that we were losing the battle of the car keys to a woman who had lived through four wars and the depression. In retrospect, it was hardly a surprise.

One particularly hot summer day, I called Grandma. When she answered the telephone she sounded so sad and forlorn.

"What’s the matter, Grandma?" I asked.

"I can’t start my car," she exclaimed.

"Grandma why were you trying to start your car? You know you’re not suppose to be driving," I said, about to give her the full lecture on the dangers of driving.

"Now before you get in an uproar and start telling me stories about dangerous old lady drivers who wipe out entire families who are on a trip to the ice cream shop, I want to explain," she snapped. "There are times that I need to feel like I’m still able to do the things I used to do. I need to feel useful and alive again. At those times, I take my keys and start up the car and sit behind the wheel and just let the motor run. I listen to the hum of the engine and remember the people I’ve seen and the places I’ve been. And sometimes, when I feel particularly daring, I take new turns and forbidden roads just to prove to myself that while I may be an old dog, I can still learn new tricks. You know, sometimes sitting in idle just letting your motor run is better than the trip itself. You should try it someday."

And you know, Grandma is right. Sometimes just sitting in idle and letting our motor run is the best the best medicine we can take as we drive down the crazy, fast-paced lanes known as the highway of life.

Bleeding Hearts

In this month’s Oprah Magazine (April 2007) there are three stories concerning adoption. In one story author and adoptive mom, Carol Brennan, writes about when her daughter met her birth mother.

“ She said again how hard it was for her, giving me up. An undertone in her voice confirms that, diverse as the millions of adopted children are, this they have in common: the need to hear and hear again that they were not relinquished easily.”

Those words hit me like a bolt of lightning tonight. Perhaps I am ready to hear.

There appear to be two camps in adoption. One that says to tell the truth if you know it but to never say anything you don’t know as fact just to make things easier for your child. For instance, I have read and been told never tell your child that it was difficult for their birth mother to relinquish them unless you know for a fact that it was. This is because you don’t want your child believing made up truths in case they do meet their birth parents and find out differently.

The second camp seems to say that if your child asks if their birth mother loved them you answer “Well, yes she loved you very much because she took the time to make an adoption plan for you. She wanted to make sure that you were raised by a family who loved you very much.”

I have struggled with this question often but when my five year old asked my gut instictively went with the second answer, “She must have loved you very much.” At the time he needed to hear that as much as I needed to say it, even though I thought I never would. He needed to know that his birth moms love for him was not fleeting and inconsequential just like my love for him will never be. He needed to know that his core is built around the love that he has experienced, both transient and for the long haul. And that both are valuable because the short amount of time he experienced his birthmothers love helped contribute to who he is. And perhaps she is even in it for the long haul although he may never know for sure. Maybe she even prays for him every night.

When you think about it who doesn’t need to hear that they were loved and wanted? Who doesn’t need to believe that those who carry us, those who live with us and those who know us would not easily forget us? Because if they were able to just forget us it calls into question what the real purpose of our lives are and what is important. Is it just living life or is it living life in such a way that others wish to tell your story?

When we divorce we do not think that “getting over it” should come easily. We don’t want to believe that the person who loved us could just walk away and create a life with another person a day later. We want to know that our love is not easy to leave. That the love we give away is meaningful to others and that the feelings that are intertwined with it just don’t vanish overnight. We want to believe that love lasts a lifetime even though it may not be available to us throughout each moment of every day. That is one reason why heaven is so appealing. And it is why our “first love” remains so dear to us so much so that many people go in search of it many years later.

So why would my child want to hear that they were relinquished and then forgotten? Why on earth would I ever want them to think that their first mother just “got over them.” Love doesn’t work like that because in real life it is also filled with regrets and missed opportunities.The highs and the lows...the ying and the yang... that is what love truly is. Hopefully love doesn’t work like that in adoption even though I suspect many adoptive parents might wish it would. For love has meaning, truth and clarity wrapped within it. And love doesn’t just vanish in an instant. Instead love follows us, sustains us and lies with us and within us forever carrying us when nothing else will and all else fails.

So my child you can relax and you can rest assured that you are loved. It may be in different ways but your mother's have both loved you.