Archive for the ‘parenting’ Category

The Words Every Adoptive Mom Longs to Hear…


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!

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.

Mothers, Help Your Sons Grow Up to be Fathers…


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!

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

Church is Like a Hospital


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!

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

“If You Look for the Goodness in Your Children, Good Things Will Happen”

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!

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:

Thanks sooooo much! Happy reading!

Cup of Coffee, Anyone?


My son, Steven, has somewhat struck out on his own with his infant daughter. He moved far away from home…across the street to the small house my mom used to live in. It is a great use of the house as he has a “convenience store” across the street, OUR house, which is VERY convenient because he has neither money nor car.
Thinking as an adult, Steven bought a used Kuerig coffee maker. Using those little coffee cups to make coffee can be quite expensive for someone who has limited money. He came over the other morning, and looked at me with his puppy dog, young adult trying to be grown up, eyes. He was out of coffee! Could I help? Sure! I had about 10 jars of instant Maxwell House coffee that I’d purchased for $2.50 at the local Walgreens. Each jar made a zillion cups of coffee. He looked at it quizzically; for his Kuerig? Sure! I handed him a little coffee holder for his device, and showed him how to put a spoonful of coffee granules in it. Off he went happy, none the wiser that he could have made the same cup of coffee with boiling water instead! Someday, when I have a lot of money to buy coffee, I will explain the difference to him. In the meantime, grown up Steven can have his cup of coffee in the morning without it breaking the bank!



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

Singing Do Wa Diddy Diddy Dum Diddy……..WHAT???????


Driving around with my daughter, Marie, is always spirited fun, especially during the nice weather. She loves to “listen” to the radio by feeling the vibrations from the speaker when she leans her leg against the door. Today, with the windows rolled down, we were bopping away, tapping our hands on the car door, and shaking our bodies in time to the music. The music was not generally my “type”, but in a way it was, because any music that brings me and Marie together is my kind of music, even if she did the choosing, (and she choose based on the sound of the base vibrations.)

As we were bopping along with the windows down, I became self-conscious of the booming vibrations coming from the car. We were having fun, so what! THEN I became shocked when I heard a word in the song that should not be spoken…a word I didn’t even know the ASL sign for. Previously not even listening to the words, I started to pay attention. There were many words not suitable for family listening, as well as words that are not socially acceptable. I was MORTIFIED! Here was this sweet little, ole mom and her teenage daughter listening to urban (VERY urban) rap!

Marie didn’t understand my quick channel change, and I did manage to find some tamer, not as exciting base vibrations for us to bop to. I explained that the song had “dirty” words in it and it wasn’t appropriate to listen to. Marie said she couldn’t hear the words, anyway, so what did it matter? Thinking of all of those cars stopped next to us at red lights and in traffic throughout the day, I shuddered!

So this is an apology to anyone who was driving near us and heard the booming, top level, uncensored urban rap blasting from my car. I didn’t meant to do it…REALLY!



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

Got My Hand Caught in the Cookie Jar


As a busy mom, improvising is a way of life.

Have YOU ever used:

Aluminum foil as a scrubber when your cast iron pan is real dirty?

A hair dryer to warm the bent frame of your glasses so you can bend it back into position?

Butter to remove your wedding ring? OR to put on chapped lips?

A plastic fork to substitute for a hair pick?

Eyeliner as a pen?

Socks as mittens?

A bathing suit bottom to substitute for underwear?

52 pieces of paper, with appropriate hand drawn markings, to replicate a deck of cards?

Guilty of all of above. My biggest new “substitution” happened the other evening. Being on an everlasting diet, I try not to keep chocolate and candy in the house. After a hectic day, an overwhelming chocolate craving overcame me. Frantically searching the house for one last piece of Easter candy, (or even a Halloween candy that had fallen behind the seat cushions,) my search came up empty. Desperate, I expanded my search, standing on a kitchen chair to look high into the cupboards. AND THERE IT WAS!!!! Hiding behind the flour and the spices sat the jar hubby proudly used to make chocolate covered strawberries. CHOCOLATE!!!! So there I sat, on the kitchen floor, sticking my finger into the jar of chocolate and licking it off with great satisfaction. Sometimes, you just have to improvise!

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