Foster2Forever

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My Chick-Fil-A Controversy for Having Too Many Kids

chick-fil-a-anti-gay-controversy-childrenI’m so sick of this Chick-Fil-A controversy! What happened to the right to free speech? ENOUGH already!

However, I recently had my own Chick-Fil-A  controversy.  As you know, I’m still adjusting to the dynamics and logistics of large family living and herding 5 children.

Last Saturday, after a quick visit with cousins out-of-town, I took all the kids to a Metroplex Chick-Fil-A before loading them back into the GMC Yukon for the ride home. My plan: play hard, then sleep hard on the ride home.

Five kids into a restaurant by myself? What the heck was I thinking? I’m no freaking SuperMom, for Pete’s sake!!!

kids-at-chick-fil-a-controversy

That being said, I thought I did fairly well ordering our meals, keeping Cupcake and Twinkie with me while the boys rushed off to play. I quickly found a table adjacent to the playroom, and set up camp. Sometime, in the midst of feeding the preschoolers and 10-month-old Cupcake, 4-year-old Donut announced that he needed to go to the bathroom. I mumbled “in a minute” as I was wondering how in the world I was going to manage taking this brood to the bathroom.

I looked up and saw that he had already darted across the restaurant and was going into the mens room. Well, “not a whole lot I can do now that he’s already made a run for it” was the thought that crossed my mind. So I watched the mens room door, and in hindsight, should have sent Stinkpot after him.

A couple minutes later, a man who had been sitting near the bathroom approached me. “Is that your little boy in the restroom? He’s needing help.”

I scooped up Cupcake, and went and opened the mens room door. Donut was in the stall with his pants at his ankles exasperated that he couldn’t find the toilet paper.  He obviously didn’t realize the large contraption in the stall is, in fact, toilet paper. I coached him through wiping, flushing, washing and drying his hands with the mens room door open while watching the other kids eat.

As Donut ran back to the table, the man spoke to me:

“I’m not one to tell other people how to parent, but you should never have your children any more than an arms length away from you at all times. You should be able to grab your kid in an instant.“

Dumbfounded, I replied, “Yeah,” and turned to go back to my table.

My response only irritated this man.

“Listen! I work in a penitentiary and there are some bad people out there! Bad people! That could do horrible things to your kids.“

Downtrodden by this single man’s judgment of me, my only reply was “I know” and I walked back to my table.

I knew he was right. I now have a large family for the time being, and I should have had a plan before I attempted to step foot into a restaurant with 5 little ones.

I also wish my reply would have been more like:

“I know all about bad people. Two of the kids’ dads are in prison and the other would be if he hadn’t be deported. If more people like you who know so much about parenting would open their homes to foster children, then I wouldn’t have 5 children in mine!“

How do you manage handling numerous children in public? What would have been your response to the single man?

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The Dream vs Reality of Being a Father

He was my Dream-Man! I was in college and had his photo in my room. I would look at him and smile. Hoping for the day – praying for the day.

This was my dream.

Do you remember this poster? I realize that I’m showing my age now and if you’ve never seen this photo, then — Shut Up!

This black & white poster, produced in 1987, showed a handsome, hunky father cradling his sweet, little baby, seemingly having a conversation.  This poster was a blockbuster of its time, selling over 5 million copies worldwide!

Wow! Even a quarter of a century later, this photo still captivates me — the lighting, the shadows, the illuminated infant. (okay, and the man’s biceps & pecs, too)

The truth behind the photo is that a male model is holding a baby, that’s it. The man, Adam Perry, went on to sleep with 3,000 women and is a deadbeat dad who has never even held his own son!

That’s the reality!

A harsh contrast to the story told in the photo.

My reality is that over two decades after Spencer Rowell’s photo captivated me —

 This is my reality!

MY DREAM CAME TRUE!

Do you remember this poster? Share your dream in the comments!

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My Struggle with Attachment Disorder

toddler-tantrum-foster-child-trauma-bonding-attachmentHe was out-of control – as if demons had taken over his soul. His screaming was unintelligible. His body was flailing about with his arms punching the air or anything in the way. His face was the color of a sun-ripened tomato. His kicking jerked as his body contorted into different directions.

This wasn’t just a tantrum.

My role as a mother is to raise my precious preschooler into a Godly man. But my doubts overwhelm me during these moments. Had Satan already taken hostage of my child through a disorder known as Reactive Attachment Disorder or RAD?

In these moments, I am broken. I fall to my knees crying out for God to release the demon from my beloved child.

Through the prayers, God is awakening me to devote myself to this child.

Whatever it takes, dear Lord!

My child has emotions from his neglected infanthood that he cannot understand or control. His desire is to have all his physical needs met and feel that unconditional love.

As his mother, I have to make sacrifices. I’ve taken him out of full-day school. I’ve taken family leave from work to demonstrate to him that Mommy loves him and wants to be with him.

I devote my life to my son.

A problem that isn’t too large for my Lord and Savior.

Have you liked Foster2Forever’s Facebook page?

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My Confession: The Rejection of My Mother

DiedI have been grieving.  I have been grieving a loss. Not a death – a loss. The loss I feel of not having a loving, caring mother.

Last November, I was ecstatic about our adoption of Lil Bit – thrilled that he would finally be ours after a rubberband custody battle. However, that happiness was contradicted by a broken heart.

Knowing that Lil Bit’s adoption would be on National Adoption Day, I asked my mother to be a part of this special day. I asked (begged) her on Labor Day (in September).

Her reply to me was: “But that’s when we are having Thanksgiving. Why don’t you change your adoption day?”

“Mom, I can’t change National Adoption Day. I will be adopting Lil Bit the weekend of your Thanksgiving. Why don’t you celebrate Thanksgiving on Thanksgiving weekend or another time?”

“But that’s when we always have Thanksgiving.” (for only the last 3 years)

“Mom, I can’t change National Adoption Day. I guess we won’t be coming for your Thanksgiving unless you change the date.”

There was no other mention of Thanksgiving, even after numerous conversations about Lil Bit’s broken arm, the investigation into our foster home, and his adoption.

Two weeks before National Adoption Day, I called my mother to let her know the details of the adoption.  She began making excuses about why she couldn’t come. Her hours at work had been cut so she didn’t have the excuse of having to work. But, of course, it was all about the money and how she didn’t have the money to put gas in her Toyota Corolla. There were other excuses too. After the call, I was downtrodden, knowing in my gut that she didn’t want to share in the joy of our adoption.

After speaking with my wonderful husband, he suggested that we just send her a $100 gift card for gasoline.

However, when I called her up the week before the adoption, before I could tell her about the gift card, she began lamenting about all the people that were coming to her home the weekend of our adoption.  She was having her early Thanksgiving and didn’t tell me. My eyes were clouding over with tears when I asked her, “Do you want me to bother sending you an invitation to the adoption?”

Her reply was: “No, don’t bother.”

I hung up the phone and began crying. My soul was flooded with emotion over all of the past rejections of my mother.

My entire childhood I was told over and over that I was ugly and just an overall horrible daughter. My sisters and I never did enough to help her. We were constantly referred to as “damn kids.”

When my parents divorced, at age 14 I chose to live with my dad. For years, I heard how it was my fault that she didn’t have custody of her kids. As an adult, I read the divorce decree and discovered that she did have custody as long as she lived in the county. When I asked her why she didn’t just move back, her reply was: “I needed my mother.” (My younger sisters were 11 and 7 years old. She was 35.)

I’m not writing all this for you to join my pity party or tell me how terrible my mom is. I guess I’m writing this to let you know how a neglected child never completely heals from the rejection of a parent.

Did my mother ever do anything to warrant CPS involvement? No.

However, the verbal taunts and rejection from my mother still haunt me as an adult.

I guess that is why I’m so passionate about a child going to good home, instead of to a home that is just “good enough.”

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Are You Really a Mom If You Have No Kids?

When my recent placements moved on and my house and arms were empty,  I started asking myself a simple, yet profound question —  Is it possible to be a Mom and no kids?  I mean, what does it mean to be a mom?  So, I did what any self respecting 31 year-old would do, I opened my laptop and googled the word Mom.  I found my answer, kind of.  Even Wikipedia, the go to definer of words, sounded stumped.

Here is part of what they had to say:

“A mother, mom, mum, momma or mama, is a woman who has raised a child (to whom she may or may not have given birth) in the role of parent.  Because of the complexity and differences of a mother’s social, cultural, and religious definitions and roles, it is challenging to define a mother to suit a universally accepted definition.  The proverbial “first word” of an infant often sounds like “ma” or “mama.” This strong association of that sound with “mother” has persisted in nearly every language on earth, countering the natural localization of language.”

To sum it up, motherhood is more than giving birth, and it’s really complex to define.  I’d say.

There are many women I know struggle with this question – and with the empty house and arms.

  • women who miscarried
  • women who attended the funerals of their children
  • women waiting for “the call”
  • women who foster other people’s children
  • women whose children have grown and flown the nest
  • women who chose to place their children for adoption
  • women who had their children removed from their care and placed with another

And for all these women and for myself, here is the conclusion.  Your full or empty house doesn’t define who you are.   Loving and losing a child, doesn’t “demote” you from Mom to something else.  Loving a child who isn’t in your arms yet doesn’t either.  Your love and actions do.  Selflessness, compassion, love and that protective “mama bear-ness” are parts that make up a mom.

If you love a child more than yourself, you are a mom.  If you would do anything for the safety, wellbeing and joy of this child, you are a mom.  I like how Elizabeth Stone puts it when describing motherhood,  “Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”  However I would expand it to say, “Making the decision to LOVE a child is momentous…”

So love selflessly, compassionately and protectively on, my fellow mothers.  Our children, wherever they are, will thank us.

This post was written by Alisa, a young single foster mom, psychology nut, photographer and lover of Jesus.  You can follow her thoughts on motherhood, fostering and the church, on the blog,  Attempting Agape: The journey of attempting agape (unconditional) love for children by being a foster mom.

Wanted: Information on Foster Care License

Foster2Forever is compiling a list of websites that discuss the process to become a licensed foster home. We will post the list on September 29th. We currently have 5 posts ready to publish. Is yours on the list?

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Oh, What a {Mother’s} Day!!!

Our 3-year-old son, Stinkpot, made yesterday a difficult day.  He simply woke up on the wrong side of the bed – at 3 in the morning!!! He burst into our room screaming at me, “You left me alone! You left me alone!”

“Come here, Stinkpot.”

“NO! Go back to my room!’

He was inconsolable! Screaming and flailing on the floor.

Maybe it was a mistake on our part, but to encourage him to stay in his bed all night, the “Bed Fairy” brings candy if he wakes up in his bed in the morning.

WOW! He was NOT going to be anywhere but in his bed in the morning.

FosterDad took him back to his room and comforted him back to sleep. When Stinkpot woke again at 8 a.m., he seemed to be in a better mood…

But wait! There’s more!

After breakfast, he began a morning tirade, that kept us from attending church. (why risk him going off on his classmates?)

He finally took a morning nap, and the day went better.

When we were able to go to lunch, I made the decision again this year that I wanted my Mother’s Day lunch to be enjoyable so……

Enjoying Chuck E. Cheese. Isn't the baby getting big?

WE WENT TO CHUCK E. CHEESE!!!! Again this year.

(You MUST read about how FosterDad was upset at me last year for choosing Chuck E. Cheese for my Mother’s Day lunch)

It’s becoming a tradition.

How was your Mother’s Day????

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Foster Baby Arrives! Then Adopted!

On March 4, 2008 at around 3pm, I received a call from the State for an 8-month-old baby boy that needed a foster home. “Foster only“, she repeated twice. “Sure!” was my quick response.

If you recall, that was presidential primary election day. My husband & I were planning to attend our precinct convention that evening & were excited about the possibility of attending the Texas Republican convention again, this time in a presidential election year.

However, this call from the State changed our focus from that night forward.

A State investigator from an adjacent county arrived at our home at 6:45 that Tuesday evening carrying in her arms the cutest baby boy. His bright eyes lit up as he smiled at us for the first time. His bottom 2 teeth gleaming. He was wearing an olive corduroy jacket over his navy onesie with the cutest navy & white striped pants. He was wearing navy tennis shoes! So adorable!


I can only rely on my memory as I didn’t have the foresight to grab my camera.
(A mistake I haven’t made again!)

As the State investigator began telling us the story on this baby, we were thinking “how can anybody neglect a baby that way?” He came with next to nothing & had been kept in his car seat & dirty diapers. What a horrible diaper rash he had! (This is one reason we are having such a difficult time potty-training him now!) He was 8 months old & couldn’t sit up or even roll over! He was also very sick. (Look at those poor little sick eyes!)

That first night was TORTURE! He was so congested that he could only sleep 15 minutes at a time – ALL NIGHT LONG! It was the most exhausting night of my life!

The next morning I drove 1-1/2 to pick up my mother-in-law to help me. I had no idea how to care for an infant! (When pregnant, you have nearly 8-9 months to prepare.) I was an instant Mommy!
For the next 2 weeks, we had DAILY trips to Walmart to pick up some type of baby paraphernalia that we needed. I was absolutely, totally FRAZZLED for at least 6 weeks solid – overwhelmed by the incredible responsibility of instant motherhood!
As time went on, it became more apparent that this baby wouldn’t be going back to his parents. He did have a full brother 2 years older that was living with his grandparents. The baby would have been sent to live with his grandparents, but they were already raising SIX of their other grandchildren!
Once the parental rights were terminated, the grandparents realized that we could provide more for the baby than they could & decided to allow us to adopt him.
What a handsome little man he has become!
foster infant child kid adopting adopted
As challenging as our JD has been, he has been an amazing blessing in our lives!
Have a great weekend!

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Stinkiness, Boot Camp, and Friday Night Lights – and some Adoption News

I HEART OUR STRONG-WILLED PRESCHOOLER, STINKPOT…

Stinkpot concentrates on riding his tricycle – see that tongue!

  • Strong-willed is an understatement!
  • At 3 years old, thinks using the potty is for sissies
  • Hopeless fan of Houston Astros and Texas Rangers
  • Addicted to baseball, football, basketball, softball, tennis, soccer, hockey, wrestling, etc.
  • Loves attending church
  • Way too charming for his own good and juggles too many girlfriends to count
  • Likes to act silly
  • Independent – demanding to do things by himself
  • Future first round draft pick for the Houston Astros in 2025

He is such a blessing in our lives, but, wow!, what a challenge!

I HEART THE EVENTUAL ADOPTION OF OUR FOSTER BABY…
He is OURS!!! Not officially, of course, but we are now, over the largest hurdle of adopting our 1-year-old baby boy, Lil Bit — the birthmother has voluntarily signed relinquishment papers to terminate her parental rights!

A few weeks ago, we met with CASA (Court-Appointed Special Advocate) and Lil Bit’s case worker to discuss continued contact with the birthfamily (mainly the great-aunt from my understanding). We just had to decide how much contact we would allow.

Last Monday, I received a desperate call from the case worker to meet with our attorney to draw up our agreement with the birthfamily. The next morning, I met with our attorney and discussed terms of the agreement.  He had some really great suggestions, and we decided the normal exchange of photos and updates would cause the least confusion to Lil Bit as he got older.

However, we kept coming back to the question: With whom would the contact be?
The birthmother – whose termination order the agreement would attach???
Or the great-aunt – who CASA is heavily promoting so that Lil Bit can keep his Mexican culture???

After discussing this in our meeting, we had no clue! Over $300 in attorney fees!

A week later, we still have no answer and we’re waiting on either the case worker or birthmother’s attorney to discuss with our attorney….


I DON’T HEART BEING BOOT CAMP DRILL SARGEANT….

Stinkpot was really a challenge last week! Hitting his teachers, his classmates, and toys.  I had to perform some boot camp strategy that is totally “not me”.  At one point, he had struck my last nerve and was being so stubborn while I was trying to care for a sick baby. I finally had enough that I yelled raised my voice to him to do it, NOWWWW!!!! Oy!  — so NOT ME!
(He has since been mocking me by telling Daddy that he wants something NOWWWW!!! – with his signature smirk, no less) But he did straighten up after that…

I HEART FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS…
Additionally, I used a football game as motivation to get him in line. It worked (mostly)!

For being a mostly good boy this week, we went to a high school football game together. 

Giving Stinkpot a kiss under the Friday night lights

We wanted to see my niece perform on the dance team for the first time; however, she performed to the other side…

My beautiful niece before her performance

Maybe next time…

I HEART FACES…
Here’s a photo that my father-in-law took of my hubby as he was learning to ride a tricycle.
I love the story this picture tells! You can see my mother-in-law, always the enthusiastic cheerleader, is so proud of her little boy as he concentrates so intently on completing this milestone.
(I am amazed at how much our adopted Stinkpot resembles his dad!)

Steve learns to ride a tricycle – circa 1961
    I entered this photo in this week’s I Heart Faces “Photojournalism” challenge –
    click the badge for more photos!

     

    Come back Wednesday to hear the next chapter of our love story…
    And on Friday to link up your funny stories with 2 Funny Friday!

    Miscellany Monday @ lowercase letters

    Mckmama- Not Me Monday

    Mommy and Me Monday at Really, Are You Serious?

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    MY BABY BOY IS 3 YEARS OLD TODAY!!!

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    It’s hard to believe that my Stinkpot is 3 years old today!

    I honestly can’t remember anything of July 1, 2007. It was a Sunday. I’m sure we were at church. I’m sure my stepson was at his mom’s for the month of July. So it was just me and my wonderful husband alone together. But I don’t remember what we did that day or where we ate lunch.

    Thinking of my little boy’s birthday in this way saddens me. On his birthday each year, I can’t share with him even one detail of his birth.

    You see, we adopted Stinkpot through our state’s foster care program.

    What I can share with him through the years, is how much he changed my life on March 4, 2008 – the day of his arrival. Our plans on that election day changed from attending our voting precinct convention to “how are we ever going to get this baby to sleep”! You can read more about his arrival on THIS POST.

    The Gift of Life
    I didn’t give you the gift of life,
    But in my heart I know.
    The love I feel is deep and real,
    As if it had been so.

    For us to have each other
    Is like a dream come true!
    No, I didn’t give you     The gift of life,
    Life gave me the gift of you.
    — Unknown

     
    Y’all have a blessed week!
    ~penny
     
     p.s. Due to technological problems, I will not be able to announce the giveaway until this weekend.

    I’m Clever

    Sway