Enough Said…

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A Joyful Heart

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One of my biggest faults is that I am apolitical. I tend to do my one little thing raising my kiddos, and consider that my contribution to the world. Whom I admire most are those who are activists, those who stand up for what they believe in and work diligently to make it happen, even if they have to work year after year after year. And so my hat is off to those who have worked so sincerely to legalize gay marriage. Congratulations! WHAT an accomplishment!

I assume that everyone knows someone who is gay. People who are gay are, and I say this jokingly, “just like us.” I understand that there are some religions who firmly believe that being gay is not appropriate. I admire truly religious people who do what they think is right, even if their position is different than mine. But I feel comfortable with my belief is that God is a loving Father/Mother; would that God not love all of his/her children equally regardless of class, race, gender or sexual orientation? And if one of Jesus’ disciples was gay, would He not have taught him, loved him and treated him no differently than the others?

I do understand Biblical references against people who are gay, but was the Bible not written within the times in which they lived? My opinion is that people who are gay should be given the same consideration as why we justify that slaves are no longer allowed and that women are no longer subservient, even though it is written so in the Bible.

Oh, dear…here I go being political. For this one little time. In celebration of the legal acceptance of all of God’s children. Thank you to those of you who worked so hard to make this happen!

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Like most other adoptive parents, I adopted children because I, selfishly, wanted children. (My theory was if I had children to care for, I really didn’t have a lot of extra time to clean the house. I would rather care for a child than mop the floor…) An adoptive parent should never think their child who is adopted is beholden to them. The child didn’t choose to be born into their circumstances, and they certainly didn’t ask to be adopted. And I have had more than my share of emotionally unstable children, (aren’t all teenagers unstable anyway?) and never expected them to be happy about my choice to adopt them, (or at least not to express that feeling.)

But I was wrong. I went to Marie’s award ceremony at school today. Most parents didn’t go, it was during the day and I’m sure it was hard for them to get off work. It was hard for me to get off work, too, and I will have to work on the weekend to make up for it, but I went because I wanted to support Marie, who had been doing phenomenally in school. Marie didn’t know I was coming, and she was sooooooooo excited! She ran over, gave me a big, wet, on the lips kiss, and put her head on my shoulder while she hugged me tightly. She was genuinely happy to see me, (and not just because she knew I would take her out for ice cream after the ceremony.) She dragged me to all of her friends, and announced to them in American Sign Language something that made my heart stop and tears come to my eyes. She said, “This is my mom. She wasn’t my real mom when she adopted me when I was 7 years old, and at first I didn’t like her, but she made me feel safe and she gave me food and clothes. Now I love her very much and she is my real mom because now I have a happy life and I know I will have a happy future. And someday I will have babies and make her a grandmother!” I am her mom, indeed!

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To read about our traumatic early years together, please purchase my book, The Apple Tree: Raising 5 Kids with Disabilities and Remaining Sane on Amazon.

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My oldest son, Francis, grew up amongst a caravan of foster brothers and sisters. Specializing in newborns and infants who had been affected by prenatal drug exposure and addiction, our family was usually comprised of my husband and myself, Francis, his sister, Dinora, who had been adopted from Guatemala, and one or two foster babies. Despite the fact that Francis is severely visually impaired, he played an active role in child care, frequently holding a little one, feeding a bottle and changing diapers. When going to the mall, he and his sister would proudly push the double stroller. (With the 2 of them, he could be a pusher without having to see where he was going…) Throughout his childhood, sixteen foster babies lived with us, and caring for them was just a fact of life.

Francis is now an adult with a Ph. D. from Cambridge, a well paying dream job, a wonderful wife and a cozy home complete with a grill for grilling steaks and a lawn to mow. And, as of three weeks ago, a newborn baby. My week spent with his little family renewed my faith in the power of what is learned in childhood. Without even knowing it, I had trained Francis how to be a good father! He bundles his little girl up in a baby blanket, like I had bundled up those babies who were going through withdrawal. Newborns like being in a tidy bundle because they arrive with strong startle reflexes and without much control of their arms and legs. By pulling her arms and legs in close and securely wrapping a blanket around her little body, baby India can feel safe and secure. When she is awake and alert, Francis rocks her and sings songs to her, songs that he heard me sing so many years ago: “Itsy Bitsy Spider”, “Hush Little Baby,” and “The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round”. Even though she couldn’t possibly know the songs, the sound of his voice quiets her, and these songs are easy to sing. When he is expertly changing her diaper, he plays “This Little Piggy” with her toes, gently pulling her feet to his mouth to kiss. He exaggerates the “wee wee wee home” by tracing his finger from her toes to her chin, tickling her slightly before kissing her forehead. And while she sits in his arms on the couch, ready for bed, he reads her books with very large print; “Goodnight Moon”, and “Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed”.

On the evening before I left to fly home, he looked over at me and thanked me for giving him the opportunity to practice on all those babies years ago. All of his friends are having babies now, he said, and they are all in a tizzy. Because of the practice HE had, he is a confident parent and not at all nervous with India. I realized that by being a foster parent to infants, I was not only caring for little ones, but also nurturing parenting skills in my oldest sons, skills that will ensure he will be an awesome father!

I have repeated this post from last year. His adorable baby is now a year old, and his father’s day skills have continued to flourish!

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If you are interested in reading other stories about Francis, please purchase my book on Amazon.

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Sitting in church today, grumpy and petrified for Steven’s future, I barely listened to the sermon. During my mind meanderings, I heard Pastor suggest we all think of church as a hospital for those with broken peace. Yes, that is me! Broken peace! I started listening more closely, and he was speaking to ME! To paraphrase the sermon, church welcomes everyone looking for peace. Everyone is living their lives often faced with many challenges, tragedies, illnesses, possible prejudices against them and sadness. As much as I would like to think so, life is not all daisies and sunshine. Steven’s life sucks, and will continue to suck. How/why that happened or why God would “let” that happen is of no consequence. It happened. It is.

My peace was restored when I realized that in the scheme of this whole eternal universe, the time spent on earth is only a drop in the ocean. Because the existence of “God”, (not a Jewish God or a Catholic God or even a Muslim God,) just GOD has been confirmed in my life; it has been proven to me that He/She is there. Waiting. For me and for Shaun and for everyone else, especially those who are suffering. While life may be challenging and emotional right now, it won’t be like that forever. He/She will be there forever, welcoming me.

So, for today at least, my peace was repaired in church.

I will see if it can last til next Sunday!

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To read the proof of God’s existence, please purchase my book on Amazon.

RAD is BAD

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I live a charmed life. I doodle doo go about my business, enjoying my kiddos, my surroundings, and life in general. The problems, multiple crisis, small tragedies and difficulties in raising 5 kiddos with disabilities, (3 of whom are still home) usually roll off my back like the spring rain rolls off of my blazer. I can handle it! Except for the issues with RAD, Reactive Attachment Disorder…

My son, Steven, is now a young adult. We have raised him and loved him and tried to teach him right from wrong. There have been many bumps along the way, but all have been dealt with in a reasonably sane manner. Sure, he has always had a problem with stealing, but he has always been punished and made to pay back what he stole. Sure, he has always had a problem with lying, but I can tell when he is lying by the amount of details to the lie and his steadfast belief it is true. The more he argues, the more I know he is lying. Sure, he has a problem with outbursts. He has kicked holes in the walls, broken the mailbox and numerous doors. But he has always been “grounded” and had to fix them afterwards, hopefully a deterrent to not being violent.

All of the counseling, special education in restrictive settings, placement in a juvenile detention center for a short time, immense loving from his family and medication in the world has only slightly minimized his problems. But he has RAD, and all the loving in the world cannot contradict that fact.

Although dealing with this challenge has been a life long issue, it has reached the point where adulthood no longer accepts his negative behaviors. When he was living with his girlfriend, she did not believe one of his lies and he got angry and punched the window. She called the police. He was arrested for domestic violence. He hangs out with a bunch of guys at a small get together he has arranged around a small fire pit in our backyard, and next thing you know they are fighting, and he (and the guys) get arrested for assault. And what he tells the police is something from outer space…”I came home from work and they were all partying and I told them to leave and they wouldn’t so I had to hit them.” Yeh, RIGHT!!!

I had been to court with him twice for the above issues, and he received probation. However, he continues to have difficulties that cannot be tolerated. In an argument over money, (of which he has none,) he walked down the street to a friend’s house and THEY got into an argument over who knows what. Arrested again. Third time. Going to court with him next week will be a challenge. We have to wait, wait wait. You have to be there at 9 am to check in, but they may not call your case until 2:00 pm. Steven has always had difficulties with waiting. The last 2 times in court his legs shook so badly the whole bench of 6 seated people shook along with him. He took the last seat against the wall and tried to curl himself up in a ball and blend into the wall, pretending he was somewhere else other than court. Three times he had to leave to vomit. If I weren’t there to subdue him, he would have walked out after the first 10 minutes.

Next week he will definitely be getting jail time. His lawyer said he was lucky he didn’t get it the last time he was in court. Steven is petrified. He is sick to his stomach. He cries and says he wants to commit suicide. If only he had a different life when he was a baby. If only he had been taught that people cared about him and he could trust someone else, learn right from wrong. If only his birth mom hadn’t taken drugs and his birth father wasn’t in jail. If only, if only, if only…

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The Apple Tree: Raising 5 Kids With Disabilities and Remaining Sane
Authored by Linda Petersen
The link to the book:
https://www.createspace.com/5321986?ref=1147694&utm_id=6026

My dear friends and readers,

Please excuse this commercial interruption of your regular reading.

If you enjoy reading my blog, you will LOVE reading my book!


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The Apple Tree: Raising 5 Kids With Disabilities and Remaining Sane
Authored by Linda Petersen

(Review by Dawn Raffel from Readers Digest:)
Her story begins not with her children but with her own childhood spent traveling the country in the backseat of her parents’ car (her perpetually restless dad had post-traumatic stress disorder from WWII), often with very little money and few provisions. Where someone else might have seen deprivation and isolation, Petersen viewed her unusual childhood with a sense of wonder and gratitude. After marrying young and giving birth to a son who was legally blind (and who went on to earn a PhD on full scholarship), Petersen and her husband adopted four more special needs children and fostered many others. Each child has their own special story about overcoming tremendous physical and emotional difficulties in order to be able to succeed and enjoy life. Her honesty, wit, and terrific storytelling make this a book you want to read rather than one you feel you should read.

The link to the book:
https://www.createspace.com/5321986?ref=1147694&utm_id=6026

Thanks sooooo much! Happy reading!

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