My greatest flaw

I know, it's hard to believe, but I do possess some imperfections. Perhaps the most embarrassing and most obvious flaw I have is my lack of tidiness, er cleanliness, um ability to pick up after myself, eesh, I am basically a down right slob. Seriously. I have read the Messy Manuals, self help on learning how to de-clutter and clean, made vows to myself, lived with roommates that forced me to clean, I have even gone so far as to schedule visits with people so that I am forced to clean up, but alas, I still seriously lack the clean gene.

Enter the magic of friends. I know I have blogged on this before, but it's worth repeating. My friends are awesome. I have always had someone who could help me clean. My BFF as a child cleaned for me, my sister cleaned when we shared a room, my college roommate (couldn't have done college without her) kept our room tidy all four years, and well, my husband has seriously failed in this department. He is just as big a slob as I am. I am grateful that here in TX I have found my enabler, a hem, clean friend. We have worked out a deal, she and I. She cleans my house in a way that I couldn't even envision and I pay her. So far so good.

Seriously guys, we spent all of last night cleaning the upstairs and the kids' rooms. I mean we organized, we unearthed, and we cleaned. But apparently Brenda (clean friend) went into their rooms and created some sort of magic. The kids walked into their rooms with oohs and ahhs. Jacob was so excited he called me into his room so I could see how, "she made my bed!" For real. I spent nearly an hour on our art table that seemed just as bad as when I started. She spent 10 minutes over there and it looks like an organized studio. I could hate her for her clean brilliance.

So, for a few minutes tonight, I am sitting back and enjoying my clean house. Just a few minutes though because I think we were already on our way back to our previous state the minute I let the 3 shedding dogs back in the house.

And this is just a picture of my adorable children from like 4.5 years ago because I don't actually have any photographic evidence of my clean house. It does exist though, for now.

Sarah and Brian + 8

Okay, so first of all, Brian would like to know where our TLC contract is. Second of all, all 8 kids are not ours really, so you can all breathe a sigh of relief - we have not lost our minds, totally. We did, however, have 8 children here overnight and all day today between our two biological children, our two foster children and my friend's four kids (the ones that lived with us this summer). Regardless of how you count it up, 8 is still a lot of kids.

When you have 8 kids you might miss that one of your kids is wearing a sleeveless sundress in the middle of November. Or you might not see that one child has his dress shirt on inside out and even managed to button it that way. If you had 8 kids one of them might have lice and you might have to go to Walmart at 11pm to get lice shampoo so that you can de-louse all of them - lots of lice shampoo by the way. When you have 8 kids probably 2 or more of them could be getting into trouble without you seeing it until it was too late and someone might have already called someone else stupid or something worse. When you have 8 kids you might banish 3 boys to the backyard for-some-peace-and-quiet-for-crying-out-loud, and they may or may not string the hose up over the jungle gym and try and use it as a tight rope to the deck. When you have 8 kids you might have to do like 500 loads of laundry even using your new giant size super sweet LG washing machine and dryer. When you have 8 kids probably a few of them will spill at each meal. When you have 8 kids, more than likely 3 of them will hate whatever it is you made for the meal that the other ones spilled something at. When you have 8 kids you have to take two cars to church - even though you have one of those nifty SUVs that has a 3rd row that seats 3 - unless of course your vehicle is bright yellow and seats 70. When you have 8 kids the gate you installed to keep the little ones off the stairs and the big ones upstairs might end up broken by one or the other going over it. When you have 8 kids and they all are asleep, you probably will be drinking a BIG glass of wine and writing a really long blog post about it.

I like staying with y'all

Foster parenting has been on my heart since I was a young woman. It seems that I have always known in the depth of my soul that I was supposed to love children. I felt a drive to have children in my home that were not my biological children almost as strongly as I desired my own Jacob and Reba. As a 15 or 16 year-old I was expressing my desires for many children to my mom (a woman who has dedicated her life to loving children as an educator). With her love and wisdom she pressed on my heart the first memory I have of desiring a large family that may or may not share my genetic makeup. "Have children of your own, if you are able. But there are many children in this world that do not have someone to love them. " And there it was. I knew instantly I would open my family to these children.

I have been blessed generously with my Jacob and Reba. We actually just had their parent conferences with their respective teachers. Of course every parent wants to believe things about their children, they are smart, they are confident, they are good kids. It is so affirming when someone else believes this too. Jacob's teacher added his humor to his list of strengths (we get this every year - we are afraid, very afraid) and we know he is funny because he pulls some great one liners at home. He is just funny enough to get in some big trouble - uh, does this sound like someone else we know (eh hem, Brian). Reba had too many strengths to list, her weakness is perfectionism (she only looks just like me - clearly I don't suffer from perfectionism, eh hem, Brian and mom). Most importantly each teacher confirmed our greatest hope for our children, they are nice, loving children. But then again, we knew that.

Life could be complete and fairly tidy with these two. I could easily live forever knowing I had a Jacob and a Reba and things could go along mostly uncomplicated. There would always be one kid for each parent, one boy, one girl, Jacob looks like Brian, Reba looks like me, a bedroom for each, we could easily fit at our small kitchen table, and we would always have enough seats in a regular car. In many ways they more than fulfill my need for children. But after that moment so many years ago, I knew that it wasn't going to always be about my need for children but rather a child's need for me (though I feel more blessed than ever). Who needs tidy and uncomplicated?

Along comes S and I (I am not going to use their real names and can't post pictures here because this blog is not password protected). S is 3 and I is 1. This is our first official foster placement. I am overwhelmed - with love. I is as cute as can be. He brightens our days with his baby laughs and smiles. We marvel at the milestones he has already hit in just one month. Having a baby in our house again is fun. S is very active and high energy and there are times when I want to pull my hair out. But for every moment I am going potentially bald, she makes up for it with words or actions that melt my heart. Ah, 3, I remember you. The magic mercurial age of 3. You are just cute enough that your parents won't kill you. Bless her little heart. She looks up at me with her cockeyed pigtails at least once a day and says, "Momma, I love you. I like staying with y'all." And this is when I remember - have children of your own and love them and then open your heart and home to the children in this world that need a momma to love them. In the end, the love you give to a child gives back 1000 fold.

Legitimate questions

Right before we left on vacation the kids and I needed to do some essential Target shopping. Pretty much we just had to buy underwear because the 1 year old yellow lab puppy has decimated our underwear supply and you can't very well go on vacation without underwear. I digress...

We were walking into Target just past dinner time and the kids hadn't eaten. We were entering famine stages and the kids were launching into a full fledged whine. Jacob, in his ever theological and introspective way asks the epic question:

"How come they say, 'If you believe in God you will never be hungry and if you believe in Jesus you will never be thirsty.' And I am BOTH right now?"

Ummm... What 7-year-old thinks of that? Don't ask me for my answer to that. I am sure it was not nearly adequate for the question.

How to stalk your favorite blogista

1. Believe if you met your favorite blogista you would most definitely be best friends.

2. Drive to blogista's current city of residence (aprox 14 hour drive) without alerting said blogista in advance.

3. Arrive anonymously at blogista's favorite coffee house and buy coffee.

4. Blatantly introduce yourself as a huge fan.

5. Suddenly realize how creepy your stalking has become and admit it out loud.

6. Proceeded with hour long conversation which confirms you and your favorite blogista were meant to be friends.

7. Meet up with blogista for Popsicles later in the week like your stalking her wasn't weird at all.

8. Buy souvenir mug and t-shirt from coffee house like a big huge nerd.

Thanks Annie from AnnieBlogs for not thinking I am a complete weirdo. Come see us in Austin and I promise to find you next time I am in Nashville and maybe even call ahead of time. I am grateful for the time we were able to spend together. I'll do seven minutes with you at the Popsicles place any day! Our pic is on Brian's camera so I will post that as soon as he gives it up.

Tobago, why don't we go...

We are BAAACKK... from a Caribbean vacation of our dreams. God bless best friends and destination weddings. Kate, my BFF from forever got married last week to her perfect match, Nick. Nick's family is originally from the island of Trinidad, Tobago's neighboring island and under the same flag. Because of Kate's love of the island and because these two are as unique as they come, they decided to have their wedding on Tobago. Thus, as the Matron of Honor, I HAD to go. Did you hear my arm twisting? Right.

So, after 8 years of marriage Brian and I finally got to take that Caribbean vacation (sans kids) and contemplated never coming back. Everything about the island says slow down. I actually don't think I saw a clock the entire time I was there. Though we were coming from Texas (unlike those coming from Los Angeles and NYC), we noticed a definite pace change. Don't order breakfast and expect it before you are hungry for lunch, in other words. The beaches were beautiful. The water was clear and warm. The snorkeling was awesome (I didn't even scream out of my snorkel this time). The locals were lovely. The rum was strong. The 30ish people we traveled there with were incredible company. And I loved it!

We had the distinct advantage over other tourists as we had some semi-local help. Trinidadians travel there for vacation often and those whom we were with were quite knowledgeable. We stayed in rental homes, near the beaches, with people that were used to driving on the wrong side of the road. Uncle Oscar (Nick's Godfather) was the ultimate tour guide and often the life of the party. Brian and I felt like part of the family (we stayed in the family house) and by the end of the week had invited ourselves back.

The wedding itself was beautiful - I absolutely cried through the entire thing. I am not sure why I was so emotional - perhaps it was purely because Kate, my BFF, had found her perfect match and was experiencing the happiness I had always prayed she would find. Kate was shining, absolutely shining, lit up from head to toe. And regarding Nick, a finer man would be hard to find.

Enjoy some pics (most of these are Brian's - I was too caught up in vacationing to actually use the camera much) and dream of your own Caribbean Vacation.

Belated Father's Day

What words can I even say about my husband this Father's day that aren't overshadowed by his actions.? Two weeks ago when we were in Tobago I heard over and over again from the other wedding goers (men and women alike) that Brian was a good man and I had chosen wisely. "Yes," I'd say, and then I'd correct them, "Brian chose me." This fact continues to astound me as I see him grow year by year. I knew I had a good man when I married him 8 years ago. What I assumed, but didn't know, was that he would be such an amazing father.

When we arrived home from being out of the country we got news that a good friend of mine was in need. She had four kids and needed an immediate place to stay and childcare for up to two weeks. Brian said, without hesitation, that she could come stay with us - no questions asked.

Father's day, after church, Brian spent it at a ballgame - which I was working - with 6 kids, 4 of which were not his. Though my sister came along for support and their mom joined them a couple hours later, he shouldered the responsibility like the man I knew he could be. Did he complain about not being able to sit back in a recliner (which we don't own) watching his 52" flat screen (which we also don't own) with a beer in his hand (no way he would drink with that many kids to keep track of)? Not a peep. I would say, "What a man!" but really, I know how much better than the average man he is.